Oct. 25, 2003 - 16:42 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

A Tale Well Told

At an early age I began to look at hands as well as faces although I had not the knowledge to fathom any of what they showed but I saw many differences and wondered and pondered about them.

There were women's hands red and raw, chapped in the winter often. By my later experiences I found that their hands got that way from dishwater activity, wringing mops when scrubbing, moving clothes over the washboard and then wringing the clothes from the soapy water and then from the rinse water. Going outdoors frequently with hands not quite dry as well as hanging clothes on the clothes line in the cold. I did some of all that, I was still hanging clothes outdoors on the line in 1943 -- however we did have a scrumptious electric washer and wringer combo from 1937. Chapped hands were the norm for me and continued so after we were married for a time. Then came the Launderettes.

There were women who managed to keep their hands pristine as if just out of a gift box. There were few cremes and lotions then that were as magic as today's and rubber and plastic housework gloves were yet in the future. Some of those women were fortunate and had others doing their work for them. Others were I guess, enchantresses. Ladies who did a lot of crocheting and sewing by hand had their distinctive markings and scars too.

Men, who of course, are just overgrown little boys have grubbier hands by nature I think. But the work they do leaves marks too. Most mechanics had ground in grease in the skin of their hands and the black cuticles too. Men working with sharp tools had their share of scars and red spots from scrapes. The coal miners who had coal dust embedded in their skin had black hands too as well as having that coal dust in creases of their necks. Then there were those who were jacks of all trades who bore all of those and more. I must not forget the old time printers who had not only printer's ink in their blood but indelibly worn on their hands. A class in itself I suppose are those who had all the wrinkles, scrapes and scars from their avocation such as sailing, mountain climbing and camping out.

Just a verbal hint in conversation nowadays gives me a chance to read the history of some people's lives by looking at their hands. All but the heartbreaks and inner traumas that are contained in their souls which do not plainly show.

Then come the marks of age for men and women both, which are civilian hash marks of seniority. The veins protruding, the wrinkles that weren't there before and those blotches that they used to call "liver spots", the arthritic knuckles and withall most of those hands are still deft -- up to the time they lose their fine motor control, but that comes later. Hands for the most part I feel, show the amount of work and love expended in a lifetime.

Here are hands of cyber friends of mine as well a pic of mine (Doug page 4) Hands Project

Medals of honor are hands I think, evidence of good and faithful service by most of us. Old hands are A Tale Well Told . . . . . . . . . .

Blog