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One of the first questions I often get asked after talking to a group of youth is, “What does it say on your knuckles?” From time to time I have dismayed having my knuckles tattooed; simply for the fact that instead of something profound, instead of some deep personal question that perhaps my talk has ignited in someone’s heart, I am getting asked, yet again, what is written on my fingers. Despite my disappointment that I have not ignited a passionate discourse I slip off my wedding ring and present my fists for inspection. “Hold fast?...