My great-grandfather, Robert Hill, passed away just a month after my eighth birthday, so I have mostly faint memories of him from my childhood. I knew him as a tough, old Idaho farmer who lost the three middle fingers on one of his hands in a farm accident. A favorite scene on our visits to my great-grandparent’s Ucon, Idaho, farm was watching him retrieve little candies—he called them “hummingbird eggs”—from his candy jar using just his thumb and pinky finger. He would pass out the candies to all the grandkids.