Hands [short story]

This is the first piece of writing I’ve read by Sherwood Anderson.

It’s the story of the gentle, loving man, formerly a school teacher, whose life was ruined by a false accusation by a “half-witted” boy of his having sexually interfered with him.

The man’s name was Adolph Myers, and his problem was that it was natural for him, loving as he was, to caress the shoulders and hair of the boys. There was no harm in this touching, it was just Adolph’s way of expressing affection.

As it was, the boy’s false accusation led to Adolph being chased out of town following an attempt to hang him.

He settled in another town, where his aunt lived, and changed his nme to Biddlebaum.

But he dared not be his natural, loving self, being show more afraid of what his hands might do, no matter how innocent. These days one might say he had post traumatic stress.

He was now a fat, bald old man, who had formed “something like a friendship” with a young reporter.

But he hardly dared develop this friendship, again, being afraid of what his hands might do, and what it all might end with.

Wing Biddlebaum was “forever frightened and beset by a ghostly band of doubts”; “he did not think of himself as in any way a part of the life of the town where he had lived for twenty years”.

I found this to be a sad tale of a loving man who had suffered a trauma, which had led to his suppressing his natural, kindly instincts and being afraid to live his life fully or develop friendships. show less