Old Man Oshenschlager had the heaviest thumb in the neighborhood. He used to stand behind that old scale and weigh things, and you could look in through that little glass window where it said Toledo, Accuracy, look in at the revolving drum spinning around in there, and old Oshenschlager, wearing his straw hat with his rolled-up sleeves held by sleeve garters and that big bloody apron of his, would just stand there and look kinda squinty-eyed at the back of the scale. He'd say: "That'll be forty-seven cents please."
And my mother at the other side of the counter would say: "Get your thumb off." . . .