This is NOT a Christmas story. I wouldn't want these heavy doors to slam on my fingers or hand for that matter. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I had a car door slammed on my finger. It wasn't a pretty sight. I hid my hand in the pocket of my shorts until the blood soaked through and my teacher caught sight of it. It was a bloody mess. I got the rest of the afternoon off. If a door of this weight and girth enclosed my finger, it wouldn't be blood I would be worried about. I'd be asking, where's my finger? Will you get it for me? I know it's around here someplace. Agony. Owwwwww.