Each maker has his own reasons for making a knife. I believe that these thoughts come very early in life.
My desire started before kinder-garten. I remember trying to grind a knife blade out of a Popsicle™ stick on the cement in front of my house. Dandelions in our front yard were the enemy and a knife would come in handy. The kids on my block had swordfights with sticks and garbage can lids for shields. My father wrote home from France during World War II that he was bringing me a French Lebel bayonet and then I could see myself fighting dragons.
In my youth I enjoyed a lot of freedom. We could play in our backyards and there were no government folks to “protect us.” We made our own toys and played kid’s games. Though I do not remember, I figure my first “almost-knife” was made of modeling clay. Soon it was a stick shaped on the cement. Some kid’s mother told him it was the enemy that planted dandelions in our yards. The Dandelion War kept us busy and some metal kitchen and table knives appeared among us for a short time.
The first
