No. 2 in a series of things I wrote in J-school
The hands of a logger are awesome; real loggers’ hands, not those of an equipment operator or foreperson. My grandpa’s hands reminded me of my first baseball glove… perfect for the job, leathery and big. When he shook my hand, I feared it would not come back to me in the same shape. My hands are small, possibly stunted by intimidation.
I said these would be short.
Tomorrow, a visit to the doctor.