Holding Hands with Our Friends and Our Loved Ones
When I walked out my front door early last Saturday to retrieve my newspaper from the driveway, I noticed a man in his late twenties or early thirties walking up the street with his son, and they were holding hands. I was a bit surprised because the boy looked to be about five or six, and the street was completely deserted, so I wondered why the father felt the need to be so protective when there was no…