The Miracle of the Hand, Part One by Julie Elias with Gary Bird

All this washing of hands lately—it has had us thinking, well, about hands: how useful they are, how beautiful they are, how culturally indispensable they are. We clean with them, work with them, make art and music and inventions with them. We text with them, travel with them, make repairs with them. Dabbing would not be dabbing without them (Google: “Betty White dabbing” and you’ll see the best example). We greet with them. We welcome with them. We comfort and cure with them. We reject with them. Think about it. Hands are truly amazing.

We looked up NBA players with the biggest hands. Boban Marajanovic, center for the Dallas Mavericks, wins the prize with a hand length of 10.75 inches (base of the palm to the tip of the middle finger), and get this, a hand span (pinky to thumb) of over 12 inches. Keeping it close to home, Milwaukee Bucks’ Greek Freak, Giannis Antetokounmpo, is a close second. His hand span is equal that of Marajanovic, but just an inch shy in length. Of course, we had to measure our own hands for research sake…and also because, with social distancing thanks to COVID-19, we are finding novel ways to keep ourselves entertained. Julie’s hand span is a puny 7 inches, and Gary’s is a little over 8 inches. Boban’s hand span is over 4 inches longer than Julie’s size 8 foot. When Marajanovic holds the basketball, it looks like a soft ball in his palm.  There is an entertaining clip on Youtube of Kristin Chenoweth, (whose height is about 4ft 11in) meeting Boban Marajanovic (7ft 3in). When they shake hands, it’s like watching a father enveloping the hand of a tiny infant. Strength, breadth, athleticism, and control—Marajanovic’s hands tell us much about who he is and where he has been.

M.A.S.H., Season 4, Episode 19, is simply titled “Hawkeye”. After his jeep rolls over, Hawkeye Pierce (played by Alan Alda) finds himself in the home a local Korean family (whose members do not speak English) while he waits for help to come. He is suffering from a concussion and he knows he needs to remain awake. He begins talking to this family who politely listen to him, albeit not understanding a word--a monologue that can easily be considered one of Alda’s finest pieces of acting. About 20 minutes and 40 seconds into the episode Hawkeye begins to talk about the miracle of the hand. He expounds on the crazy huge quantity of bones in the human hand, and the uniqueness of the opposable thumb, which enables us to accomplish everything from gripping a ceramic cup filled with Korean liquor, to forming the symbol for the Boy Scout Oath. He juggles onions and garlic for his audience with his hands, and describes how the same hand that makes an angry fist, is also the same hand that in our greatest moment, is “…when we open our hand, cradling a glass of wine, cupping a loved one’s chin…”

We have been discussing the hands of each of our fathers. Julie’s father was an athlete, whose palms were wide and thick, with short fingers, perfect for gripping both the baseball bat and the golf club. His nails were short, with very little nail bed. Julie remembers as a young girl, sitting in the church pew on Sundays next to her dad, slipping her hand into his, and that one particular Sunday when she realized with an unpleasant jolt that her own hands were miniature, identical copies of his.  All the teenage years she spent agonizing over her thin, short fingernails and wide, not-so-feminine palms, while her friends enjoyed manicures, rings, and nail polish! “Why did I have to end up with my dad’s genetics and not my mother’s beautiful long nails?!”  But it was at his passing, in 1998 that she realized what a unique and irreplaceable gift she had been given. Now, every time she looks down at her hands she gets to have a little bit of her dad back—a living, breathing piece of him that he left behind for her.

Gary’s dad was a farmer from Boyceville who had very muscular hands that were “rutted”, leathery and rough from his everyday work. Dairy farmers here in the North, work with their bare hands in the coldest temperatures, constantly having to immerse them in disinfectant and water at every milking. Scrapes, skinned knuckles and abrasions are badges of honor on a farm, and Gary’s dad was no exception. His hands told the story of work ethic and connection to the Earth—of a person who did not coast through life. His hands pulled calves, repaired tractors, made hay in the hot summer fields, and held his wife as they danced around in the farm house kitchen. 

Kelly Bird Carswell remembers her Grandpa Bird’s hands this way:  “…my grandpa bore the scars of his livelihood in his hands: they were calloused and rough, like large dry leather mitts, with thick yellowing nails capping broad fingers. Those fingers were covered in the nicks and bruises that come from handling tools. Still, his hands fascinated me, how he could use those immense fingers to coax the motor of a tractor to come to life or slap a reluctant cow’s backside in one moment, and in the next, gently wipe the wisps of a baby’s hair out of their eyes, summon a loose tooth out of a grandchild’s mouth, or squeeze a perfect spiral of honey onto a saltine cracker… To me, he wore his wounds like art in a gallery, battle scars that testified to his craft.”

Fred Bird made it to the end of his days with his digits intact, which is saying something when you think of all of the places on a farm where a person could lose a finger or two. The same with shop teachers. Someone once said if you line up 100 educators you can pick out the shop teacher because he’ll be missing at least two fingers and holding a ring with about 20 keys on it.  If you know musicians who are string players, or guitarists, ask them to show you their calluses. Our hands give us away, revealing both our work and our shenanigans, but always, always they tell a story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zznQUceCafI Kristin Chenowith and Boban Marajanovic

M.A.S.H. S4E19 is available on Hulu, and on Youtube for purchase.