Chapter Ten: The Laying On of Hands

Milo Jantzen was built like a Greek statue, probably because his father Heinrich had had him digging ditches when he was my age. Heinrich belonged to the old school, which used to teach that there’s nothing like digging ditches for building character. I don’t know about that philosophy, but it sure was a way to build a great body, though you had to ask yourself, would it really be worth it? Charles Atlas advertised an easier way. Fact is, I’d once written for his plan and sent him some money. He wrote back and said all you had to do was give it fifteen minutes a day and you’d have the girls hanging on your biceps and the only problem would be which girl to choose. In my case I figured this’d be no problem at all; it would be Margaret Siebert hands down.
Well, after a month or so of all that straining I found that Mr. Atlas was correct, my biceps ballooned from eight and a half inches to eight and three-quarter inches, according to the tape measure in Mom’s sewing basket, so I started to wear my sleeves rolled up, like James Dean. But all I got for my troubles was a remark from Penny Dyck along the lines of, “John, tee hee, Margaret thinks that deep down you’re really a sensitive guy.”