Palm

I wake up with a simple common four letter word on my mind—at least I think it is simple. The word is PALM. Now all I have to do is figure out the significance. I am “off and running.” Must be those trees that I’ve seen everywhere in tropical climates (along with Las Vegas). In fact, there is even a hotel and casino by that name in Las Vegas. That’s not to be confused with the cities in California or the island off the coast of Dubai, or the restaurant chain in New York City, or the Hawaii recording company, or the Belgian brewery. Or the art house film distribution company. Or PhotoActivated Localization Microscopy known by PALM, or the unit of length. Or the small computer-like personal digital assistant with an operating system by the same name as well. Or the magic thing the Harlem Globetrotters routinely do with a basketball, and it goes on and on. None of those seem to “ring a bell” so I guess I should move on to the body part. That does resonate somewhat. I remember recently being told by a dietician to adjust my meat portion size to a sliver the size of my palm. As a vegetarian that’s now do-able although it would have been “impossible” most of my lifetime. I think of all the palms I’ve touched with our American custom of shaking hands. One ex-Marine friend with a still powerful handshake comes to mind but there have been countless thousands of others over time. I think of my Indian friends who have never felt inclined to anything beyond a seemingly timid limp handshake by American standards. That’s because we insist on molding them to our culture instead of their more dignified “prayer-like” posture of a clasped hand greeting of “Namaskar” or “Namaste.” As I sit reflecting, I gaze at my palms. There are way more “character lines” than I remember. In fact, as my “eagle eyed” grandson might observe, my palms have gotten kind of wrinkly to say the least. They certainly didn’t look that way when I used to cup them to drink as a Boy Scout. Of course, they’re bigger now than when they used to imprison treasures such as lightning bugs (fireflies) or toads and frogs. It reminds me of the trembling injured sparrows or baby bunnies that I’ve discovered that these palms have lovingly encased. None of those many things come close to the thrill my palms experienced just a few short weeks ago. Mere words can’t do justice to the feeling of holding a precious new granddaughter cupped in the palms of my hands. Somehow something magical or may I say spiritual transmitted to the depth of my being from that tiny innocent bundle in the palms of my hands. It brought back a flood of wonderful memories of other family births. I am reminded once again that without a doubt I am a very blessed man.