While this picture may seem to be about a bowl of watermelon, it was actually an excuse to record Marv’s hands, and to remember the times I wondered why they were so much larger than mine, the times I watched mesmerized as they whisked a flaming torch over metal, turning it into liquid, or flew effortlessly along the guitar, turning it into music. I want to remember, too, how small he was, 87 years ago tonight, maybe feeling hungry for the first time in his life, and to wonder at how tiny his hands were then.
what is beautiful remains 
Used to take hot pans out if the oven without potholders. Remember?
Brenna, saw your mother’s eyes during lunch today. It was one haunting split second as she glided past me.
Funny……….I bought a big watermelon around dinnertime tonight. I love you my dear friend! I felt both of them today.
Thanks for calling Felice last night Sis. She was very down until your chat.
Hugs and love,-D
I can’t say I remember Marv’s hands specifically, but what I do remember is his calm. A quiet presence in the midst of so much chaos. He was always like a safe harbor for me during the storms of my childhood.
dear friend – your posts have such insight, courage and love. I’d never thought of my own dad as a baby until the moment I read this. gives me a whole new perspective to ponder.
Love this photo so much.
I remember my dads hands also… thanks for such a lovely post.
Pammy- no pot holders?