Don't hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself

Last night was the Volker candidate forum for both the 4th in-district and at-large candidates. I thought the format of one minute answers played to my strengths. Say what you have to say, and then shuddup about it! After the forum I sat with one of my campaign advisers Cece, while she critiqued my performance. Fortunately for me I'm used to taking criticism, especially from women. I've had a lifetime of it. There was of course my mother. The nuns at my grade school. Then there were my three older sisters. My wife Nicole marvels at how even to this day my sisters will pull no punches in telling me "You're too fat" "You're too skinny" "Is that all you're going to eat?" "What on earth possessed you to wear that?" The majority of my original campaign inner circle was female and they took great joy in teasing me about "having all these women telling you what to do." Cece had plenty to critique. Like any good evaluation, she started with the positive. "Mark, your answers were awesome!" Awesome?! Cool! Uh oh... I sense a "BUT" coming... "But what's the deal with your hands?" Cece went on to point out that I tend to talk with my hands too much. She says it distracts from what I'm saying. Fair enough. In my defense, Cece never knew my father. When I relayed Cece's critique to my wife Nicole, she laughed and said "Okay Melvin. Directing traffic while trying to make a point weren't you?" Melvin, if you haven't guessed is my late father. I'm told I have inherited many of his mannerisms. In a final poetic moment, a woman who had attended the forum approached me. She placed her hands on my shoulders, looked at me earnestly and said "Mark, awesome job tonight. You, are a rock star. Every answer you gave was dead on. But what's the deal with your hands?"