Family Influence
When I was young, my dad worked at a gas station as an auto mechanic. Every day he would come home, sit on the couch, and first thing he would do is grab the paper to check his stocks. I remember looking at his hands which were always rough and stained with that days work written all over them... perhaps, what I remember most about those hands was dark rings of dirt under all his finger nails, because that is what I could see as those hands held that paper... I remember thinking at the time, what a stark contrast - the hard work of hands and the work of one's mind - I learned the two are not incompatible.