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I tend to notice body parts...not the usual body parts as such, but other body parts. I may be walking through a store, and suddenly notice someones' earlobes...don't ask me why, 'cause I really don't know. But after that happens, I'll spend the rest of my time in the store observing everyones' earlobes...or, it may be eyebrows, noses, lips, forearms...whatever. I think it's because I did a lot of drawing and artisty type stuff in my youth...so I tend to notice details like that.

Anyway...We were sitting in our hot tub the other day (hot tub...it was a hundred and something outside...had the tub heat turned down to ninety something...so it was actually more of a cool tub...or at least a lukewarm tub), when I happened to notice...my hands. Don't ask me why, 'cause I don't know...but I did notice them. And I figured that in the position they were in, they looked rather interesting...no, I'm not narcissistic or vain or anything like that...I just happened to think they looked interesting. So, I did the obvious...I got a picture of them...no, I didn't use my mouth to hold the camera, or my tongue to push the button, although I did get a bit creative with my feet. No, actually, I asked my wife to take the picture.

Well, she looked at me like there was something wrong up in my head bone somewhere...what? She should get out of a nice, relaxing tub to drip her way into the house, to get a camera, so I could have a picture of my hands? Was the water too hot up near my head? Steam maybe drifted up my nose and parboiled my brain? Had the chlorine leaked into my brain and rotted it away? After a few minutes of seriously questioning my sanity, she did, in fact, go get the camera...and the resulting picture is at the head of this blog.

All this, of course, got me to thinking about hands...and that got me to thinking about a saying about hands: “Come on now, I know such-and-such like the back of my hand.” Next time someone says that to you, ask them to close their eyes and then accurately describe the back of their hand...either one. Chances are...they can't. Which, of course, sort of throws their knowledge of such-and-such into question. I, on the other hand, do know the back of my hand...I've been studying both of them for a few days now.

The back of my right hand contains a total of 7 “age spots”...one slightly larger than the others. The large one is surrounded by 5 small ones...in the shape of a star; my very own “Star of David”. The last one is off to the side...sort of off exploring other areas of the hand. Along the first knuckle is a small scar; the result of sticking my hand in a sink of soapy water while doing the dishes. Unbeknownst to me, the sink contained a broken glass...and that glass went in to the bone. You would think, of course, that I would have been cured at that point of ever doing dishes again...but...I do still do them from time to time.

The left hand also has age spots; but only 5, and they are rather randomly scattered...no rhyme or reason to them at all. This is also the hand that had its' thumb jammed back into the hand in a falling accident in 2000, permanently weakening the whole hand...no scars, but a bit of pain even to this day. Both hands contain rather prominent veins all through them...small, throbbing maps of roadways along the muscles and bones. Both of them have been infested with that small discomfort known as arthritis...and the pain that goes with it.

Age and pain have unfortunately weakened them. In younger years, they were quite strong and able to do some amazing things. Now, schlepping a 50 pound bag of dog food is still no problem...but I can no longer open a new gallon jug of milk. Writing anything longer than a short grocery list produces writers cramp, knots of pain writhing along jangled nerves through tortured muscles, which results in the writing looking spidery and unreadable. My signature, once a paragon of nice writing, now looks like a snake tap-danced its' way across the page.

So...I've been noticing hands. Most people don't notice their hands; don't pay any attention to them at all. They don't realize that hands actually have minds of their own...and their actions are fascinating to watch. Quite often, while a person is walking, they just swing along at the ends of the arms, like simple lumps of flesh. Then, suddenly, they will grab hold of their arm and force it up so they can pat a stray hair into place, or shift a purse, or wipe a bead of sweat. The person, of course, has no knowledge of these actions, and so ignores them.

Some people, some cultures, cannot carry on a conversation of any sort without the hands. As they talk, the hands jump up, swoop through the air, flit hither and yon...all in an attempt to make a point...to punctuate what the owner is saying. The other person, the listener, follows these gestures, and understands the conversation better because of them. Interestingly enough, the person will make these gestures even if they are talking on the phone, as if the listener can see their hands through the wires. If their hands are injured, or immobilized, why, they can't hardly talk at all. Conversation is almost impossible for them without their hands.

Another group of people are those that live in the world of absolute silence...and for them, of course, the hands must do all the talking. Absolutely fascinating it is...watching those that are deaf carry on their conversations...the hands jumping and flitting, forming letters and words almost faster than the eye can follow. Sometimes it's so interesting to watch, that one forgets that the hands are actually saying something...and you're so busy watching the hands dance that you forget to read what they're saying.

Hands are handy things to have...they can cradle a childs' face, love a pet, hold, prepare and fire a weapon...and pretty much everything in between. And the fun part of it is that 99.99% of everything your hands do...they do without your knowledge. You don't actually stop and think about pouring that cup of coffee...you just think coffee and the hands do the rest. You're probably not aware of the fact that your hands are pushing keys...you only know that you're typing.

Hands pretty much come in all sizes and a lot of shapes. They can be old, young, short and squat with stubbly fingers, long and thin with slender fingers. They are used, abused, put to just about any test. They are lotioned, moisturized, the nails painted any color imaginable...by members of both genders. They are scarred, injured, repaired...filled with freckles, moles, warts, age spots...thin, old and fragile with bones, veins and tendons prominantly jutting up along the back. Or they can be short, squat, the nails caked in dirt as the owner toils away at his (or her) daily job.

They are good for doing almost anything...planting a flower, driving a car, designing a car, firing a weapon, playing with a child...but I think their best use is simply holding onto another hand, whether that hand is a child, grandchild, spouse, boyfriend or girlfriend. And, to close this out, here is what is probably the absolute best use of the hand:

Dave, I think this one of the best pieces of writing I have read for ages. Like you, I am fascinated by hands. Someone once told me that it is hands that make us humans. Certainly, the best things we can do, and the worst things also, are done with our hands.

I think our hands are sort of our own personal 'Reader's Digest' of our lives. A condensation of events we've lived.

I agree- the very best use of our hands is in the holding of others'.

Good post, great photos- I noticed that you didn' t show us your palms- I'll bet they were all pruny!

Sherri

That is the best little hand to hold Dave. They grab yours with such force like they never want to let go. Lovely writing. Thank you for posting it. Zochitl

I'm gonna share something that I never have before - with NO ONE.

One day I was looking at the paintings by Michaelangelo - specifically, the one of god reaching to contact the hand of mortal man. The beautiful rendition of those two hands got me to trying to pose my own hands to match. It's not that hard to do. But from that day forward, I find myself posing my hands in artistic fashion from time to time.

Doing this evokes (to my mind anyway) a hint of gayness. I'll say flat out that I'm not a homophobe and I find it laughable that such a person even exists. So I guess I'm worried about my own "leanings" being mis-guessed when I worry that someone might observe me making artistic gestures with my digits. Anyway.....

There's something beautiful about hands - ALL hands for that matter. They're not only workhorses of our daily doings, they're also virtual semaphores of communication. Think about it - they can even trancsend speech! Someone who speaks a different language might not be able to comprehend your plea for food or water. But gestureing with your hands leaves little doubt about what you want.

Try posing your hands as if they were models for old masters to paint by. I find it intriguing and something I can't help doing - when no one's looking.

Dave, marvelous post. Hands are such great things. My grandparents were deaf, but as now they are in Heaven, they can hear. I don't know if they still have to use sign language or not. I loved to watch my Grandma and dad talk sign language. Hands are the best, without the opposable (sp?) thumb where would we be? Just another talking mammal, like whales, instead of mighty hunters like Ahab, arggh (oops, I forgot, done with the pirate thing). Hands go to our mouths, keeping us fat and happy. One of my favorite Grateful Dead tunes says this: I can tell your future, just look what's in your hand, but I can't stop for nothing, I'm just playin' in the band". I can tell your future, Dave, by looking at your hands and your work. You are going to be a great writer. If you aren't already, and I think you are. I got a beer in one hand and a remote in the other. I think that means I have TV and a nap in my future. Geez, I coulda been a contenda, too. Oh well.

Uuuurp 'scuse me y'all, well, gotta go.

Nice post, Davy! It's good to read your words again.

Thank you for sharing your hands with us!

Cali

When I think of the hands of a loving mother, I picture them folded in prayer at the end of a busy day as she prays for her little ones, that God will guide them and use her to give them the tender touch they deserve. So many children are being abused by both mothers and fathers that it breaks my heart. Here is a picture that fits here. 'The Hands Of A Loving Mother'

Thank you for the thought provoking piece. I think we take our hands for granted, like you say, until we find we can't do some things we used to be able to. That's when we start thinking about them.
I'm trying to focus on what I can do with them, and your piece helps.