. at least as he knew it, and trying to explain it to him would get me nowhere. That feeling of anxiety started coming back. I stood up and said, “S...rry I wasted your time. Guess I’ll see ya later, okay?”I took off at a trot across the football field. Behind me, Sean shouted, “Hey, what the hell’s goin’ on, dude? If this is weed talkin’, I want some!”Back home sitting on my bed, I was thinking that if Sean was in on some kind of a joke, he was a better actor than I ever gave him credit for. So. Nearly 60 years of hard work on the farm had marked him. His face was weathered like an old piece of leather and his hands were gnarled and creased with scars. One hand was missing the first joint of his pinkie and ring finger. When asked what happened he always said he froze them off picking strawberries. That was what most people who knew him well called him, "Strawberry". Working a farm for close to seventy years is hard on a man. He never stood up and waited as I shut down the bike and. More

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