The configuration of the office in the later years of Desert Crucible was such that as you entered the door from the parking lot, a counter was to your immediate right. It was a fairly tight space. There, among other uses, customers would place the sculptures (in clay, wood, etc.) that they wanted us to reproduce in bronze. This provided an opportunity for us to discuss details with the artist.
When customers came in they were often accompanied by a spouse or a friend. One day one of our older male customers, accompanied by his wife, brought in his latest clay sculpture, and placed it on the counter. As we were discussing the details, he on one side of the counter and me on the other, he kept reaching, unsuccessfully, with his right hand trying to point out a particular detail.
As he became more and more frustrated with his inability to get arm high enough, his wife noted, “Honey, you have your shirtsleeve caught in the door.” Sure enough, the closing door had trapped the edge of his sleeve.
He immediately responded, “Oh, thank God! I thought I was having a stroke.”
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