What do they see?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOAjAWToYMI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhEHB0a7Uyg

Both of these songs speak of a daddy's hands.

I posted about my own arm enders in a thread in another social media outlet. I wondered if the scars scare or intimidate people who look to close. I have plenty, on both hands.

Some scars came from being in idiot, the left index finger being one. That scar is a reminder of a cut that went to the bone. Wrapped it with a paper towel and electrical tape and went right back to being an idiot.

The oldest one is sort of a scar. Ya gotta look really hard to see it. It's a black dot under the skin. In second grade, I was bouncing a pencil and slammed the point into my hand. The graphite hung around for the 50-something years.

The left hand has 2 sets of scars from surgery. The right hand has one scar, but a second will be joining it before much longer. Carpal tunnel is annoying, but the fix is amazing.

Lots of scars from working on stuff and farming. Cabbage knives don't play. Sure wish I could get a case of 'em like we had back in the 70s and 80s. Dirt cheap, sharpen with a file and they could CUT. I only semi-joke when I say if you went to the Radio Ranch without a weapon, they'd issue you a cabbage knife at the door.

Ahhh. These hands stripped threads off a 1.5-inch bolt; yes, I used a cheater bar. Howard Morton and I stripped the threads off a 2-inch harrow axel bar. "Two monkeys on a 2-foot cheater bar," Howard said as Dad put heat to the bolt with the cutting torch.

Don't know how many nuts, bolts and screws these hands have tried to remove. Got no clue how many carcasses went under a knife in my hands. That meat fed so many families across 3 states.

These hands have removed a bullet, from my own finger. These hands have cut, intentionally and accidentally, other people. Intentional cuts were to remove hooks, warts, bits of metal, etc. I've never cut anyone out of anger.

These hands have punched things, but never in anger into another human. Doors, trees, cars, brick walls are another matter. A door here at the office bears witness to redneck rage. Working on that. These hands have also been the rock someone needed to steady themselves. Working on that, too, to get better at it.

These hands held the most precious things ever presented to them, my kids. I still recall what it felt like to hold Jesse and Susan moments after they were born. For weeks after Jesse was born, I felt the hospital bracelet on my wrist, despite it being discarded when we got home.

These hands dealt with both kids when they'd done something badly wrong. Not from anger, though. When I was done, well, if you are a real parent, you know what I went through. If you are not a real parent, you cannot understand.

These hands have wiped away every liquid substance the human body produces from other people and myself. Cerebrospinal fluid? Yep. Not many of you can say that.

These hands have reached out to lift people up, almost never to hold someone down and never to hold someone down once I became a professional journalist. Someone will argue that point. Well, if the truth hurts, yer living wrong.

These hands have written articles, stories and tales. Some news stories crashed the careers of some very important people. Some stories lifted people up. As best I know, these hands never wrote a story that caused someone to commit suicide. Can't say that about some brothers and sisters in ink.

These hands wrote stories that made people laugh. That's easy. These hands wrote stories that made people cuss - easy enough- and vow revenge on the hands and the rest of the body they are attached too. These hands wrote stories that made people cry, in a good way and a bad way.

I remember looking at my Dad's hands. I marveled at the size of his fingers. "You'll get there one day," he said. I did. I did not comment on his scars. I still marvel at the memory of Dad's hands. As Holly Dunn sings:

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle but I've come to understand
There was always love in daddy's hands

Gonna just leave that right there.

These hands have plenty of scars, but not all are visible. Some are only visible if you were there to see how these hands managed the moment. Some of those stories created physical scars physical and invisible scars.

Today, I think I can see some of the fingers beginning to warp. I know Arthritis is settling in for a long-term stay. I can see invisible scars, even though I often wish I could not. But, I need to see the invisible-to-others scars because they are reminders of who I used to be and how I am not that person any more.

Today, I wonder what people see when they see these hands of mine. Do they see the scars? Do they even look at my hands? What would they think if they could see all the scars?

Doesn't matter. These are my hands. I am responsible for them.

More scars are on the way. May lessons that create those scars make me a better person. If so, I will proudly wear each and every one, visible and invisible.