My dad had his feet burned off when he was an infant. Grandmom placed him too close to the warmth of the hearth and the blankets caught fire. His parents were outside working in the garden when they heard him cry. By the time they got back to the house it was too late. That was a defining event for my dad. He was the second son of a poor share cropper’s family. There was already an element of shame that came from being poor, but being crippled added another dimension. What’s amazing ab…