At 67, my father's skin is taking on that lived-in, tanned and leathered look, just like his 95-year-old father. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with afternoons spent sitting in lawn chairs on a blacktop driveway, faces upturned to the sun. I mention it because it gives him a manly look, like the Marlboro Man this country used to admire. Well, there are no rules at camp as everyone who has been there knows, so Dad's manliness is allowed to disappear.
Yes, that is Jerry S. Merrill's hand and those are Grandpa's nails being painted by Greta! I forget the color already, but it's vaguely mauve-ish. Very suitable for drinking beer or grilling steaks. I did notice the rest of the weekend he had me do things like carry the outboard to the water and move the propane tank. Must have been afraid of chipping a nail.
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