Fingers and Toes, by Ricky

I'm pretty sure one of the first things my mother and father wanted to know just after I was born was how many fingers and toes I was born with. Apparently, back in the 30's and 40's there was much talk among mothers about how someone they knew told them about someone else who knew someone who told how a child had been born with too many or too few fingers or toes. Perhaps the gossip included those who were born with webbed fingers or toes and other birth defects. So, parents were concerned about having a “normal” baby. Nothing about that has changed although the “rumors” about how common those type of defects are seeming to have faded. Nonetheless, when my children were born, I was in the delivery room for each birth and either the doctor or nurse would tell me the finger and toe count without my asking.

Looking back with my senior citizen point-of-view, I can say with confidence that it is not all that important how many fingers or toes one has, or even if they are different from the expected norm. What is truly important is, what one does with the fingers and toes he is given. Many people use their fingers to: create beautiful artwork; construct buildings; drive taxis or buses; win medals as Olympic victors; compose or play outstanding music; write stories based on their life after being given a weird keyword to jog memories loose, and et cetera. Unfortunately, there are also those who will use their fingers and toes for unpleasant or evil purposes, examples of which I won't bother to list.

I played toe games with my urchins until they became too big for baby games. My two favorite toe games were “Toes to Your Nose” and “This Little Piggy”. Both resulted in smiles and giggling, except the little piggy one which ended up in uncontrollable laughter as the foot was tickled as the piggy went “wee, wee, wee, all the way home”.

Even those with “unusual” fingers or toes can have productive and positive impacts upon their cultures. While serving as a deputy sheriff in Tucson, I had another deputy as my best friend. He was involved in a shotgun mishap as a teenager; losing two fingers on his left hand. Yet he didn't let that stop him from achieving his goal of becoming a deputy.

It is our reaction to the challenges life places before us that grow our character traits and make us the people we are. Sadly, all too many people fail to grow towards the light and instead emulate the stereotypical ostrich by sticking their heads in darkness and following roots down away from sunshine; their talents and skills either withering away or being used to weaken and destroy.

It is never too late to grow towards the light. Which direction are you growing?

© 30 Apr 2012

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com