Marked Baby Fingers

At some point in our young adulthood, usually in our early teens, we let go of the childhood notion that the adults in our lives are infallible and make no mistakes . We go to school and we have begun to acquire what we consider real world knowledge. About that time…we decide that the adults in our lives don’t know and haven’t learned as much as we have. That is a dangerous age because as the old saying goes incomplete knowledge is a dangerous thing.

I was no different by age 12 and one day (in my total ignorance passing for knowledge) I smarted off to Granny….busily telling her that it wasn’t possible for a baby to be “marked” before it was born. To my surprise, my grandmother giggled and laughed at me

“Why are you laughing at me?” I demanded.

Granny was laughed so hard that tears ran down her cheeks. “Learned that at school, did you?”

I remember answering that yes….that’s what I learned in science class. Then she called outside for Grampa to come in. He was told what I had said. There I sat….waiting to be told to go get a peach tree switch because I had gotten sassy with Granny . Then came a story that I have never forgotten.

Granny was pregnant with Uncle Jack. The other children were playing in the front room near the fire place. Uncle Charlie was outside helping Grampa because he was nearly 16, so he and Grampa were not in the house. Uncle Carter was about 8, Momma was 5…nearly 6 and Uncle Tom was 3. The three younger ones were running and playing when somehow Uncle Tom fell into the fireplace and burned his hand. Granny ran in from the kitchen and snatched Uncle Tom out of the fireplace. The index finger and thumb were the only fingers not burned and blistered. Whatever remedy our elders knew for burns was applied and the injury was bandaged with muslin strips. Uncle Tom’s burns eventually healed but he was never again able to completely straighten those three fingers. Of course…I knew about the curled fingers that never straightened and I sat there wondering where the story was going.

Then Granny dropped her bombshell….”Have you ever looked at your Uncle Jack’s hand?” I did not know what she was talking about and she didn’t tell me anything except that I should look carefully at Uncle Jack’s hand when he came home next time. Several weeks later my youngest uncle showed up and I flew out to meet him by the front gate. I asked if could see his hand almost before he got out of the car. He held his hand up and to my amazement the same three fingers (as on his older btother's hand) were curled into his palm….the same fingers neither man was ever able to straighten out completely.

Enough said!