The Finger 3

On vestigial parts: The finger is fully functional now. A little stiff, less so weak, and vaguely soar if articulated or pressed the wrong way. But typing feels the same as ever. Eating also. Buttoning pants and doing up zippers are back to normal. Most activities except, and there’s a theme developing…

Buttoning shirts and tying shoelaces. For these two actions, The finger and some part of my brain autonomously but tenderly lift the finger back to keep it out of harm’s way, as if it’s still wrapped up and half-severed. Why?

I think one interesting detail sets these two things apart from the before mentioned tasks: I do these two things somewhat often but not regularly, as opposed to pants that go on everyday. I also operate eating utensils and a keyboard everyday and several times each day. But buttoned shirts are uncommon (once a week?) and, these summer days, I usually wear shoes without laces. In contrast, these two tasks were performed more often in the cooler climate during the height of the injury*. It seems to me that, post-wrap removal, through necessity and repetition, the finger was fully integrated on some tasks ASAP, but, through a lack of need and infrequency of task, the finger is yet to be re-conditioned for other activities.

In everything I do, I hope to exercise thought and intention. But it’s not hard to find microcosms of how a good chunk of my day is performed via conditioning. These are small tasks for sure. But what about larger ones? What of my treatment of and reactions to people? See, you got me thinking about kindness, Thomas.


*If not buttoning a shirt, then buttoning a jacket.

The Thirteenth Of June

There’s a strip from Kiss Her You Blockhead! which, while probably as a heavily degraded and reconstituted version, has stuck in my mind since elementary school. In it, Snoopy is pondering the distance between all the members his family. Something about Spike is in Needles and Belle is in Kansas city or something like that. Then he tries to wish his dad, whom he’s never met, a happy birthday. At least that’s how I remember it. I’ve made a reference to it once in an email, years ago. I can’t find the book or the strip, so I’ve done an homage to it, from my memory.

birthday

Happy birthday, Thomas.

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