These hands took care of my grandfather 84 years ago when he was just a little boy and his sister was only 11 years old. They held my mother when she was a baby and her father was a young man fresh from the military after his service during World War II. In the 1960’s they cradled me, just a young baby 43 years ago. Today my Aunt Eleanor’s hands are a little more wrinkled and maybe not as strong as they had once been, but still, her gentle touch is as sweet as ever.