My grandfather was a baseball player. I learned this as a young boy when he snagged a blazing line drive hit into the stands at an Oneonta Yankees game—and in the pastures of his farm when aunts, uncles, and cousins would ride out in a wagon together to play softball as part of the annual family reunion. My grandfather could hit the ball beyond the farthest relative and down (...)
The Last Word
Work of Human Hands
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