Scars. . .
My hands have so many scars, where I've injured myself over the years. I don't remember all of them, but I do remember a few. The one I've highlighted below with the arrow, occurred when I was six years old. My Mom gave me a little pocket knife for my birthday. I remember taking it out in the field behind our house and getting a stick, and whittling it. . . Why do boys whittle sticks? I don't really know. . . something to do I guess. . . I'm left handed, and when whittling that first day of my pocket knife ownership, I cut my right hand. I'm not sure how well it shows up in the picture, but I can clearly see it on my hand. I have what is called left/right confusion. It's only been in the past few years, where I could confidently tell you which is my left or right hand without looking at that scar on my thumb. . . That day some 65 years ago, I wrapped my hand in my pocket handkerchief. . . years ago moms made kids carry handkerchiefs. . . I wrapped my...