Kitchen Mishaps: The Cindy Knife

This post was triggered by a recent Snapchat post from my youngest child, showing a somewhat gross closeup of her thumb, healing from a recent encounter with a butcher knife. From the looks of the cut, the knife won. Now, while over the years I've had my share of nicks and cuts from sharp implements, both in my own and others' kitchens as well as a couple of turns in a friend's butcher shop during deer processing season, this was by far the worst one I'd seen in a long time. Except for a incident from my childhood that will forever be known in my family as 'the Cindy knife.' The sight of Abbi's bruised yet healing thumb triggered a rather vivid memory.

Growing up, my siblings and I didn't get much of a chance to help with food prep in the kitchen; that was my mom's domain. Our jobs were mainly setting and clearing the table, washing dishes, and taking out the trash. But on occasion sometimes we'd be allowed to help. Like this particular day. (I believe that both me and the sister in question were in grade school at the time.) Cindy was helping make bologna sandwiches (why I remember that particular detail baffles me, but the entire incident is almost like a video in my mind). She had a large wooden cutting board on the counter in my mom's typical 60s-70's kitchen. You know, the ones with avocado-green appliances, burnt orange countertops, and gold patterned wallpaper and linoleum tile. My mom was into mushrooms at the time and those orange counters spouted cookie jars, untensil holders, salt and pepper shakers, and more - all covered with brown mushrooms. But I digress. Back to the knife.

Cindy was slicing the bologna with a long serrated bread knife, a Cutco one that looked very much like this. (One of my uncles sold Cutco knives, so that's all we used.) Kind of amusing as I think about it now - it was definitely a bread knife, although we only bought sliced bread. And while you can't tell from the picture, the blade of the knife was very long, maybe 8" or more, so perhaps she thought it was a good thing to tackle a big round chunk of bologna with. (We now buy pre-sliced lunch meat, perhaps because this is such a strong recollection for me.)

The knife was extremely sharp; my dad was almost obsessed with keeping the kitchen knives sharpened. (I think he re-did them after every use.) This particular detail is crucial to the story, as you will see. Cindy had laid out the bread, buttered the slices, and was starting to cut into the meat. Picture a child, maybe 10, holding a large round piece of bologna with her left hand to steady it, and slicing quickly through it to cut one really nice slice.

And a fingertip. I can still see the blood all over that cutting board and the orange counter. It happened so fast (due to the sharpness of the knife) that I think she was initially shocked. The screaming came seconds later. My mom never did well with blood, and her screaming quickly followed. It must have been a Saturday, because my dad was home, and he appeared out of nowhere to see what the yelling was about. He had a very cool head, and he quickly took charge. The first thing was to find the severed fingertip, and the second was to wrap Cindy's finger in a wet rag. Fingertip located, it was placed in an ice-filled washcloth and into the car Dad, Cindy, and the fingertip went - off to the emergency room.

My dad's quick actions saved that fingertip. It wasn't really much thicker than a fingernail, but it was enough that raw flesh was exposed. The doctor was able to sew it back on, and it healed quite nicely. Except that the severed nerves meant she lost feeling in the very tip of that finger.

We all called it the 'Cindy knife' after that, instead of the 'Cutco bread knife' it had previously been known as. And except for my dad, just about everyone in my family was reluctant to use it ever again. Funny, I hadn't thought about that in a very long time, but the sight of my daughter's cut brought it all back again. Oh, and did I tell you I never buy bologna and I own no Cutco knives?