Small Stainless Steel P-38 Can Opener Still Belongs in My EDC Kit
I hadn’t used it in months. Maybe longer.
The thing about the P-38 is that it doesn’t ask for space. It doesn’t even really ask to be remembered. It’s just there, like a paperclip that never gets bent out of shape. I started carrying it at some point after realizing how often I’d end up with a can and nothing to open it with that wasn’t awkward or slightly dumb. Not an emergency, just one of those low-level annoyances that sticks in your head. Office potlucks, camping trips where someone forgot something obvious, the occasional desk lunch where you realize the breakroom drawer has everything except the one thing you need.
For a while I kept it on my keyring, which made sense in theory. In practice it added a small, specific kind of friction. Not weight exactly, just a faint jangling presence that made the keys feel busier than they needed to be. It also had a way of catching a fingernail when I was digging for the right key, which is the kind of thing you tolerate for a few weeks before quietly deciding not to anymore. It moved to the bag after that, into that small pocket where things go when they don’t quite belong anywhere else but you’re not ready to stop carrying them.
That’s where it settled in.
I don’t think about it in the morning. My pockets are pretty consistent now. Phone, wallet, keys, sometimes a small light if I remember to grab it. The can opener isn’t part of that rhythm. It’s more like background insurance, except even that sounds too intentional. It’s just a thing that ended up staying.
Every now and then I consider taking it out. Usually when I’m cleaning the bag or trying to simplify what I carry. I’ll hold it for a second, flip the little arm open and closed, feel how surprisingly solid it is for something so thin. Then I hesitate. Not because I expect to need it that day, but because I can picture the exact kind of minor inconvenience it quietly prevents. Standing in a kitchen that isn’t yours, opening drawers that don’t have what you assumed they would. Or sitting at a desk with a can and realizing you’re about to improvise something that’s going to be either messy or slightly embarrassing.
It’s not a dramatic problem. That’s kind of the point.
There was a week a while back where I took it out without really deciding to. I think I was trying to make the bag feel lighter, or maybe just neater. Nothing happened for a few days, which made the decision feel justified. Then I ended up at a park with my kids, and we had a can of something we’d brought along without thinking it through. I remember looking at it, then at the bag, already knowing it wasn’t there. We managed, but it was clumsy. Not a big deal, but it lingered just enough that when I got home, the little opener went back into that pocket almost automatically.
What’s interesting is how little it affects anything else. It doesn’t change how the bag carries. It doesn’t compete for pocket space. It doesn’t need maintenance or attention. It’s easy to forget, which is probably why it survives the periodic clean-outs. Bigger items have to justify themselves constantly. This one just avoids the conversation.
I’ve noticed that the things that stick around in my carry tend to fall into two categories. Either I use them all the time, or I never quite prove that I don’t need them. The P-38 sits firmly in the second group. It’s not essential in any daily sense, but removing it creates a small gap that only shows up at inconvenient moments.
Sometimes I’ll find it again with my fingertips, like I did this morning, and there’s a brief moment where I think about how strange it is to carry something so specific for so long with so little use. Then I zip the pocket back up and move on without deciding anything.
It’ll probably stay there. Not because it’s important, exactly, but because taking it out would feel like I’m inviting a particular kind of annoyance back into the rotation. And for something that weighs almost nothing and asks for no attention, that’s usually enough.