My daddy was a jack-of-all-trades. He always had a purple nail on one of his rugged hands, from smashing it between two objects or having his hammer come down on it of his own accord. If we were close enough to where he was working, we’d hear him murmuring and having full-out conversations with himself. When he wasn’t talking, he was chewing on his tongue and contorting his mouth in weird ways that surely helped him get the job done quicker and easier. I don’t think we saw him work on anything without something going a little haywire because he always seemed to throw a few more colorful words in…