Yesterday, I was picking up nails where the old barn used to be, when I remembered the worst whipping I ever got. My sisters and I were playing in the field behind our house, when my sister, Lorrie, stepped on a nail. It wasn’t just any nail, mind you, it was a rusted, four-inch barn nail. The bottom of her foot centered it, and the nail went completely through the other side. The small piece of wood to which the nail was attached stayed attached as Lorrie hopped and screamed into the back yard.