The Manly Art of Knitting

Written by Dave Fougner and published in 1972. Recently back in print. Available from Amazon.

Dave Fougner is six-foot-two, plays tennis, raises horses and shows them, teaches fifth and sixth grades at Steele Lane School, has real estate and air plane pilot licenses, is married and has a family. His hobby? Knitting!... Dave, a big, genial, friendly man of 28 says, "I like to knit in bed watching television."

Jennifer, his blonde wife, and Christa, their three-year-old, sat in on the interview at the Fougner (pronounced foe-gner) home on Loch Haven Drive. Jennifer laughed and added, "I don't knit."

On a marble table near me (the couple also collects antique furniture, refinishing it when they have some free time) lay a copy of Dave's book, "The Manly Art of Knitting," a picture of him astride Jennifer's beautiful registered Palomino quarter horse, Fore's Dandy, on the cover. You have to look twice before you realize that he's knitting atop the horse...

"One reason I wrote the book was to encourage men to try knitting. There's a doctor in town who knits. It's amazing how many men do but are afraid to admit it..."

And knitting was primarily a man's job before the Industrial Revolution, he said. "Knitting was an art. An apprentice knitter served six years."

The Santa Rosa Press Democrat - Apr 8, 1973
     Posted By: Alex - Mon May 21, 2018
     Category: Hobbies and DIY | Gender | Men | Books

I knit, sort of. USAF taught me as physical rehab for my hand. But the purists will say it's not real knitting because I use a loom. Besides the requisite Dr. Who scarf, I made a large comforter (really, really heavy, but warmer than you can imagine), and even a Christmas tree to hang on my wall (uses window-blind slats to prevent sagging, and it folds/rolls up for storage in a tube). Still have a couple of looms and some odds and ends of wool for the odd times, every couple of years, when I feel like making something.
Posted by Phideaux on 05/21/18 at 03:46 PM
I know horses. Pretty well, actually. That one is saying "Save me. Please."
Posted by Old Whitebelly on 05/22/18 at 12:13 AM
My uncle worked as a lumberjack for a few winters in an isolated camp. In the evening there was nothing to do in the bunk house. Most men played cards or read. My uncle knitted socks and mittens and sold these to fellow loggers.
Posted by BMN on 05/22/18 at 12:26 AM
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