Thumbs-Taking a Chance:

Two things happened, recently, related to my thumbs, that have never happened before. I went to a bank the other day to take care of an unusual transaction-at least unusual for me. I did all the usual things-signed my name, and produced two forms of I.D.-all under the watchful eye of the surveillance camera. Then the teller said she needed a thumb print. She got out a little ink-pad, told me what to do, and gave me a tissue to clean up my right thumb. I don't have any problem with it. It was just a new one on this old one.

Then about a week later I was finishing up a remodeling project-nothing big. Maybe it was the "What's next?" question that distracted me. I don't know, but distracted I was-at least until I felt the impact of the carbide blade on my left thumb. My Dr. says it should be OK, though the scars will no doubt provide some interesting conversation.

My thumbs have something in common-I mean beside being attached to me-both of their recent experiences relate to a concept that seems to drive a great deal of our modern thinking and actions (or lack thereof) risk. Fraud related to credit-cards, checks, and other financial transactions costs each of us hundreds of dollars every year. My unique thumbprint on that document is the bank's attempt to reduce risk. Since, at least in part it is my money that is in jeopardy, I'm OK with it. Since my left thumb has been swathed in bandages it tends to attract some attention. "What did you do?" is a frequent question these days. When I give the answer, sometimes in words, more frequently with an unmistakable look, friends and acquaintances say, "You shouldn't do that anymore. The risk is too great."

My two most clumsy digits were having an up-or-down conversation. RT was aimed skyward. "We live in a world where people rob and steal. Mistakes are made. The transaction the big guy was involved in is prone to fraud. Calling me in as a witness was a wise precaution. Nobody can forge my signature. By the way, RT, you look kinda beat up."

"Yeah," he replied, "it was the big guy. I was right there on the job. He checked out, and the rest is history . . . and thumb-burger." But in spite of the big guy's wandering mind, I'm not prepared to retire. I mean, don't get me wrong, I do need a break-pardon the pun-I've been reminding the big guy about that, but I still remember, through all this padding, the feel of a well-shaped and finished piece of wood. I could end up on the shop floor, but I'm going to leave my print on something worthwhile."

"I like your style," RT replied. "By the way, you look good in white. The other day I was thumbing through Proverbs, the HANDbook edition. Don't you just love that verb? You'll never guess what I found. 'Where no saw is, the shop is clean, but much of value comes from the ability of the saw to cut.' (Proverbs 14:4, Digital Revised Version) I hope you get better soon. Twiddling alone is no fun."


In there, there is STTA. (What do you expect from a couple of thumbs?)