Day 1
This week's challenge takes me back to first grade and the scribblings I
considered good handwriting. Not that my penmanship has improved much--my signature looks like a heart monitor gone haywire.I'm not using my thumbs all week, which makes it hard to hold a pen. My to-do list took three times as long to write and is barely legible.
My observations for the day look like lie-detector scratchings, and I definitely should have paid the bills before I started this.
I can imagine someone receiving my check and asking, "Is that a six or a letter from the Chinese alphabet?"
Most species do not have opposable thumbs, which is what separates humans and primates from lower classes of animals, such as ants and Wall Street traders.
As I quickly discovered, opposable thumbs also come in handy for everything from buttoning a shirt to opening a candy wrapper, both of which I needed Linda to do for me.
Hey, just when I thought I couldn't be less productive, I've found a new low!
On the plus side, I discovered it's helpful to grab everything with two hands since I can't grip anything with one.
However, I appeared to be dancing with a new two-liter bottle of Coke when I tried to twist off the lid with my palms, fingers, and forearms.
I was going to tape my thumbs to my hand, but Linda was gone and I couldn't rip off a piece of tape.
Then the phone rang and I dropped it as I went to talk. Who knew my thumbs were the only thing helping me keep my act together?
Day 2
My 17-year-old daughter Caitlin said yesterday that she wouldn't be able to handle this week's challenge.
Why? Essentially, no thumbs would mean no texting, which would mean no social life, which would make her as lame as ... well, her dad.
Talk about a generational divide: I hadn't even thought about texting. I use the index-finger hunt-and-peck method on the rare occasions I text.
When I need to contact someone, I use a new invention called the phone.
At the other end of the kid spectrum, my 7-year-old son Daniel wouldn't make it without his thumbs for a more low-tech reason: thumb wrestling.
He and his friends have discovered Thumb Wrestling Federation.com, a website that spoofs pro wrestling. It features games and printable thumb coverings of bizarre characters, such as Vini Vidi Victory, Hometown Huck, and Danny Kaboom.
Each thumb wrestling match starts with the shouted chant: "Four, three, two, one/Who will be the strongest thumb?"--which I think is my son's favorite part of the whole thing.
The fact is, I could probably still thumb-wrestle with him this week, because in our matches, the thumb is rarely in play. He cheats and uses both hands, he wriggles his shoulders, he dances, he squirms--his thumb seems to be the last thing on his mind.
For now, my thumb is always on my mind. It's also a concern for my friend Phil, who asked how I'm driving if I can't grip the wheel with my thumb.
"I'm learning as I go," I happily told him. Phil not-so-happily gave my approach a thumb's down. What's the problem? I mean, I steered clear of his kids, kind of.
Cleaning up after dinner, I realized Phil was right when he said my hands probably look a lot like Mork's Orkan greeting when I try to pick things up. It's true, they do, though isn't it the same as Mr. Spock's Vulcan greeting?
Nothing says generational divide like holding up an Orkan greeting to your kids and saying, "Nanoo, nanoo."
Day 3
I lost a thumb war with a McDonald's chocolate milk container yesterday. The "Lift 'n' Peel" tab on top is not made for the thumb-less among us.
Using only my fingers, I could "Lift"--the "'n' Peel" part was 'n'-possible.
Granted, I was also driving without my thumbs at the time, it was dark, and traffic was heavier than usual.
And there were no good songs on the radio, hard as I tried to find one. Did I mention I was trying to put on my seatbelt, too? And playing the oboe.
Well, that's the rationale I'm sticking with for using my thumbs. "You cheated, Dad!" said Daniel from the backseat.
I wondered how he'd look with chocolate milk on his head. He's lucky I couldn't grip it without my thumbs.
My un-Happy Meal aside, without my thumbs I'm getting pretty good at tying my shoes and buttoning my shirt. If I learn to count past 30, I can graduate from kindergarten.
Day 4
I had a business meeting in the city yesterday and saw a use for thumbs that I'd forgotten. Some people--particularly those in taxi backseats who must feel invisible to pedestrians only a few feet away--use their thumbs to dig for the truth.
And that truth can only be discovered deep inside their nose.
I saw such thumb-using truth-seekers twice in a short 20-minute walk. Now I'm worried about future cab rides, since, after these people found the truth, they certainly left it somewhere in the backseat for others to discover.
On a cleaner note, I've found that man was not made to shower using soap without his thumbs. I don't think woman was either; that's why woman invented a loofah. Man is not that evolved yet.
Some things I thought would be difficult have proven not to be. I can grip utensils with a caveman grip, so while I'd continue to be a lousy dinner guest, I can eat easily enough. Same thing with shaving, brushing my teeth, and zipping zippers.
The thumb may think it's all important and whatnot, separating itself from the other fingers, kinda looking down on them, basking in its unique opposability.
The thumb is a little Simon Cowell. But my fingers are getting along just fine without my thumb. I'd even give my fingers a thumb's up for the week, but I don't want to give my thumb the extra attention.
Days 5 & 6
I had to change a basement light bulb without my thumbs and was reminded of a joke that reflects my approach to fixing things around the house.
Q: How many procrastinators does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: One, but he has to wait until the lighting gets better.
We had friends over for dinner, which is another way of saying we cleaned our house this weekend. Our place was spotless and Lego-less--for a few hours anyway--and now won't be cleaned again until we have more guests. Clearly I'm not the only procrastinator in the house.
While eating, I showcased my thumb-less skills with a fork, scooping up the peas...then scooping them up from where I spilled them on the table....and finally picking them up off the floor.
It wasn't that bad, but I certainly lack style, and I threw more elbows than Hulk Hogan.
The peas gave me an appreciation for my thumb; the last time I was so reliant on it was in high school when I'd hitch rides home from school when my last class was an open period.
Rather than wait for the bus, I'd stand on the road in front of the school and work the thumb.The trick was to face traffic and look sincere but desperate. It was one of the few times it was good to be wearing the school-uniform tie and jacket.
And you never wanted to walk with your back to the road--drivers needed to see the pity face. I've got a good pity face, as Linda discovered when I proposed.
Speaking of Linda, she's holding a battery-powered game, saying, "This needs batteries; I think he'd like playing it."
"Okay, I'll put some in," I say.
"That's going to require you to use a screwdriver," she says, smiling.
"Oh well," I say, "I guess that means the game is broken."
Chalk up another household task completed!
Day 7
The week ended with a sporty day and a touch of karmic intervention. Seven-year-old Daniel and I wrestled and somehow I lost again, though I can't blame the lack of thumbs.
We rode our bikes around town--pretty simple without thumbs, actually, though I felt slightly off-balance.
I wonder if losing a thumb would have a similar effect on your coordination as losing a pinky toe affects your balance. It's not just for slamming into coffee tables, you know; the pinky toe provides a counter to the big toe.
The middle ones are useless, which is also a line mean older brothers routinely tell their middle siblings.
From my observation, a loss of thumbs would greatly affect hand-eye coordination based on the Wiffle ball catch Daniel and I had. It was more like a Wiffle ball drop, since his throws ricocheted off my hands like pinballs off flippers.
Next up: kickball. Now, according to soccer fans, America needs a pro soccer league because all kids grow up loving soccer.
My retaliatory argument: Should there be a pro kickball league as well? Pro soccer will take off in America when Pro Kickball does.
In the meantime, Linda and I played against Daniel in a display that set back the American Pro Kickball movement even farther.
Bad baserunning, bad umpiring, and one teammate's unwillingness to move when she was a fielder--not mentioning any names--made for a marathon game.
Toward the end, I lined a shot at Daniel and--with the fates against me for comparing thumbs to Simon Cowell earlier in the week--it jammed his little thumb.
He wailed as I took a look at it. Finally calming down, he caught his breath and said, "Let's keep playing. It's okay. It's only my thumb."
"Only" his thumb? Now he's tempting the fates.
Still, you gotta love his spirit. Proud of the boy, but not being able to use my own thumb, I gave him a High Four.
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