I have often thought about an old classmate of mine and the differing perspectives he and I had on our hands.

It was in 7th grade science.  Pete was being a goof-ball, once again, and decided to utilize the projector (remember those??) that happened to be left on and unattended during lab time.  Class was just about over for the day.  Our work was finished, the labs were cleaned up and we were simply waiting for the bell to ring to release us to our next class.  Such moments of downtime were never wasted on Pete.

He picked up a ruler, put his hand on the projector, took the ruler and pretended it was a knife as he swung it down towards his hand.  A swift movement later and he acted like he had just chopped off his finger, the top portion of his left ring finger missing.  That was the first time I noticed.  I’d known Pete since the year before, had many classes with him, but never before noticed that he was lacking the top portion of his left hand.

“Since you are making jokes, Pete, do you mind if I ask what happened to your hand?” asked our teacher, amused at Peter’s ingenuity.

“I got my finger stick in the wheel of an exercise bike when I was little,” came the reply, leaving all of us mentally picturing that painful scenario.

Within moments the bell rang and we were all off to our next class.

For most of my classmates that day, I have no evidence one way or the other whether they ever considered Peter’s story again. But me…I have often thought of it.

Pete was quick to get laughs and he took every opportunity to entertain the class during any downtime.  This was just one more example of that, but to me it was so much more.  Why is he so very comfortable with his hand and I am so very mortified by mine?

True, the degree of severity is very different. His is a missing joint, mine is missing three whole fingers and with what remains, a mis-shaped hand.  Plus, he has a cool story to go along with his.  And yet, he approaches his difference with self-deprecating humor while I’d be wholly mortified if my hand ever garnered such attention.  And to purposely draw attention to my hand was unthinkable.

So what is the difference?  Even today I think about that and marvel and how very different our perspectives were, and probably still are.  20 years later I still would not be one to stage such a show for a laugh.  I am quite content to not have my hand the focal point of any scenario.

But maybe I’m long overdue for a shift in perspective.  I can say I have come a long way since that day in 7th grade.  I suppose that progress will have to be enough.