Ray has gray hair, flecked with black. He wears years of hard work on his face. I admire the deep lines and wrinkles, which remind me of an old, broken-in, catcher’s mitt. When I shake his hand, it’s like shaking a leather glove that was wet and dried in the sun. His hand feels hard and unpleasant. That’s the kind of rugged, manly handshake that I’d like for myself and hope that this job will help me in that endeavor.
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AuthorMy name is Dana and my goal is to share the unconventional story of my teen years in a way that may make you cringe but also laugh. The chapters are intentionally short so that you can read "just one more" before you go to bed or a quick one before work or maybe a couple during your lunch break at work. Archives
March 2019
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