When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly

broken at the elbow.  When it healed, and Jem's fears of

never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom

self-conscious about his injury.  His left arm was somewhat

shorter than his right;

when he stood or walked, the back of his hand was at right angles

to his body, his thumb parallel to his thigh.  He couldn't have cared

less so long as he could pass and punt.