Where's my finger?

As fathers’ day approached this year I began to comptemplate the legacies my father handed down. My siblings and I were lucky; our father’s legacies were filled with love. He handed down such lessons as compassion, pride in work, independence, and a sense of humor. Recently, stress getting the better of me, I have had to draw upon the sense of humor. The following story is just one that helps me recall that lesson.




Where’s My Finger?
“What greater gift then a sense of humor to laugh at oneself and the little mishaps that happens along the way”


My father lost three of his fingers on his right hand in an accident at a manufacturing job. The accident happened when he was fairly young. It was before WWII. My dad was a bear of a man over six feet and around 250 pounds, but he was more like a teddy bear than a grizzly. He deplored violence and preached ethnic diversity and tolerance long before they were buzzwords. And he did not let an opportunity like missing digits go by without humor.

More than once I recall sitting in a restaurant with my dad and after being served his coffee, the waitress would return to take our order or ask if everything was okay. My father would be pretending to stir his coffee with his index finger. When the waitress would ask, "Is everything okay?"

Dad would reply, “Well I think the coffee is a bit strong!” He would then pull out his half a finger and gasp loudly. The reactions of the waitresses were predictable, they would shriek, jump back and sometimes drop an order pad. Then the realization that they had been pranked would come, and laughter erupted all around. It is a corny joke, but even now it brings a smile to my lips.

When he was older and in the nursing home, young grandchildren and great grandchildren would query, “Grandpa what happened to your fingers?”

He would conspiratorially say in a hushed tone, “Don’t ever pick your nose or the snot snail will get your finger like he got mine!”

Eyes would open wide on the little ones as they questioned further, “Really?”

“No" He would then laugh and exclaim, "but you really shouldn’t pick your nose.”

Sometimes his humor was irritating. I recall several times when I really wanted to be angry and he would say dumb things to make me laugh, but the message was loud and clear, "Life is hard enough, but without laughter its downright painful."