A man’s hands say a lot about him. My own father, at 66, still has the calloused, gnarled hands of a guy who did competitive weightlifting in college and spent much of his career grappling with 1,500-pound dairy cattle as a large animal veterinarian. I, on the other hand, have the soft palms of a modern-day desk jockey. My hands are delicate, well-moisturized, and prone to blisters if I spend too much time in the garden.
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