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	<review id="26249028">
    <user id="1296189">
    <name><![CDATA[Spudsie]]></name>
    <location><![CDATA[Hilliard, OH]]></location>        
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      <rating>4</rating>
  <votes>0</votes>
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  <recommended_for><![CDATA[Anyone who is a father or has a father]]></recommended_for>
  <recommended_by><![CDATA[]]></recommended_by>
  <read_at>Thu Aug 28 00:00:00 -0700 2008</read_at>
  <date_added>Thu Jul 03 16:31:48 -0700 2008</date_added>
  <date_updated>Thu Aug 28 16:25:14 -0700 2008</date_updated>
  <read_count></read_count>
    <body><![CDATA[I had a hard time trying to figure out how to rate this book.  In fact I almost didn't rate it--but that's not fair to the author or to any of the letter-writers featured in it.<br/><br/>This was a very difficult book for me to read.  For a number of reasons.  'nuff said.<br/><br/>Tim Russert wrote brief introductions for each section/category of letters.  Here's what he wrote at the beginning of &quot;Hands (and Feet)&quot;<br/><br/>&quot;Just as I used to focus on my father's hands Luke used to focus on mine.  When he was little, at least once a year he would measure his hand against mine, palm to palm.&quot;<br/><br/>I read this and wondered if any of us ever measure up to our father's hands.<br/><br/>Regardless of if the hands are calloused and rough from factory labor, or if they are manicured and soft from a life of realitve &quot;ease&quot; do we ever stop comparing our hands to theirs?  Do we ever measure up?]]></body>
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