My nickname in Junior High was ‘Thumbs’. I was famous for my thumbs. My big, fat, stubby, dumb-looking thumbs. In fact, ‘What plumps when you cook it? Julie’s thumbs’, was actually printed in my 8th-grade yearbook.
I’m serious. It was.
You see I was ‘blessed’ with my Father’s thumb – a thumb that was quite different from everyone else’s. I was special because out of 10 kids I was the only one who inherited them. Although deep down I yearned for normal thumbs that would be long pretty and elegant. I have always felt my thumbs were very special. Being 6th of 10 kids, my thumbs were something only Dad and I shared. And that was special.
But they are an oddity that people notice and comment on so I had to deal with it.
I remember talking to my mom about it back then, and I remember her telling me to laugh when the kids start in with the thumb funnies. Laugh at yourself. Join in with the fun. And, that’s what I did. The mean kids no longer teased me because it wasn’t fun to them anymore. The kids who now teased me were ones who liked me and all was done in fun. That was one big lesson I learned from Mom that day.
A few years ago my family gathered together for my brother’s wedding. At the game table one night, it was announced that my brother’s, youngest daughter had also inherited the thumbs. We all made her feel very special. Especially me, knowing the ridicule she was probably getting. I wanted her to remember that she was special. To commemorate the event, the three of us, dad, me and my niece put our thumbs on the table and a photo was taken. Proof that only a select few were able to pass down this trait in our family, who then numbered around 75.
Every baby that is born in our family gets the scrutinized look from the parents and visitors alike, ‘did they get the thumbs?’ It’s funny how over the years the look of disappointment has become apparent when it is found that they did not get the ‘blessed’ thumbs:)
Your friend in Christ,