Bony Fingers

ears ago, my piano teacher, Ralph Zitterbart, showed me the difference between my hands and his own. His fingers looked skeletal from so much piano practice, while mine still retained quite a bit of chubby flesh around the joints. Piano fingers are not very attractive. But I was struck by the idea that Ralph could see how much or how little I practiced piano at home just by looking at my fingers.

Vladimir Horowitz's hands

After that, I paid attention to the fingers of artists like Vladimir Horowitz and Artur Rubinstein while watching their televised concerts. I worked toward getting my fingers to look skeletal like the fingers of these virtuosos. I fantasized about some maestro meeting me for the first time.

The maestro's eyes would be inexorably attracted to the visage of my skeletal piano fingers. His eyes would fill with respect and gaze into my own eyes, which would reflect competence and the burning, passionate fire of the consummate artiste!

*sigh*

A young Artur Rubinstein

Bony fingers are the bees knees, thought I, back in the days when I dreamed of becoming a concert pianist.

Today, bony fingers are still to be desired. But instead of fingers bony from piano practice, I think of working my fingers to the bone through the tap, tap, tapping of a different sort of keyboard. I make my living through writing, but writing jobs have been few and far between.



Today was a great day in the annals of bony-finger days. Sunday may be a day of rest in the US and other parts, but in Israel, Sunday is just another work day. I finally nabbed a small freelance job, a bone thrown to my less-than-bony-fingers by a friend, the editing of a Powerpoint presentation for robotic software.

I was already thinking about setting my house in order to free me for the work last night, which is when I got the call to do the job. I right away set about separating laundry and making mental notes on how to fit housework and work-work into my day.

The job ended up taking only one and one half hours to complete, which is a pity. I enjoyed so much allowing my powers of concentration and creativity to overtake me. It was like being inhabited by a different, wonderfully purposeful body. I hated for the experience to be over.

It was a good feeling to not only throw myself head and shoulders into the work, but to order my entire day around this project. My whole day gained focus, flavor, and energy thanks to this little bit of work.

It was all over much too soon.

I always think I work too hard and need a vacation. But the truth is I LOVE work. I love it to bits! Work gives so much texture to my day and makes life seem that much more worth living. It makes me feel good to contribute to the household finances and to have and use my skills.

How do you feel about work? Do you wish you had more work? Less work? Do you long for retirement?