I was born with my daddy's hands. This is about using those hands in creative ways.

I've never had pretty hands. Delicate digits don't suit the rest of me. I painted portraits for sixty years. Sat through murder trials and sketched lawyers, liars and judges. I worked these hands and developed arthritis in the process. I admire women's flawless fingers but polished nails seem foreign to me. I look down at my "daddy" hands and don't miss him quite so much. He is there in my misshapen thumbs.