My Eleventh Finger

I hold up my left hand and count the fingers backward: ten-nine-eight-seven-six, then I hold up my right hand and say—and five makes eleven. Little kids always laugh at that but immediately deny it even though they don’t know the illogic involved.

Courtesy: 3.bp.blogspot.com

(CALGARY, Alberta) - They say that as you age, memory is the first thing to go. I wish I could remember what the second thing is.

One thing that fascinates me is not so much that we remember things, but what we remember.

I sometimes explain to adults that I have eleven fingers, but it’s more fun to demonstrate to little kids who know how to count but haven’t yet developed any sophistication. It goes like this.

I hold up my left hand and count the fingers backward: ten-nine-eight-seven-six, then I hold up my right hand and say—and five makes eleven. Little kids always laugh at that but immediately deny it even though they don’t know the illogic involved. I’ll do it two or three times to prove my point and they keep telling me that I don’t have eleven fingers.

I’ve always been a voracious reader and as a kid in the 1950s I read a lot of comics. That little trick comes from a Little Lulu story.

An older boy plays the trick on Tubby Tompkins who later runs into Lulu eating a Popsicle. He asks to share and she says no. Then he says—if I can prove that I have eleven fingers, will you give me half? She agrees.

He then proceeds to do the trick but, of course, screws it all up. He keeps on trying and while he does, Lulu is finishing the Popsicle. He gets more and more frustrated and finally, Lulu hands him the stick and says—here you can hold this up and pretend it’s an eleventh finger.

Why I remember this after more than a half-century, is a mystery in itself. It’s not a big laugh, but it generally gets a chuckle from adults and kids love it.

This reminds me of another line from the comic. There is a story told inside the story about a poor little match girl who is mistreated by an adult (I think it is Old Witch Hazel, but I may be misremembering.) Anyway it shows her in bed, lying on her back. Her covering is a patched blanket about a foot square and she has a brick for a pillow.

A voice shouts from off-panel telling her she has to get up and go to work. The little girl says, “Drat, just when I was getting comfortable.”

Thinking about comics, this dredges up another ridiculous memory. The Lone Ranger and Tonto are having an adventure (there’s a surprise) and TLR tells Tonto that they’re going to have to sleep with one eye open.

That night they’re both bedded down by the campfire and, sure enough, there’s TLR snoring, with one eye wide open. Hey, they couldn’t print it if it wasn’t something that could really happen.

Now that I’m warmed up, for my next trick, I’m going to explain the mystery of quantum physics.

===============================================
Daniel Johnson was born near the midpoint of the twentieth century in Calgary, Alberta. In his teens he knew he was going to be a writer, which explains why he was one of only a handful of boys in his high school typing class—a skill he knew was going to be necessary.

He has been writing exclusively for Salem-News.com since March 2009 and continues to work on a creative non-fiction book which he began in 1998. You can write to Daniel at: Salem-News@gravityshadow.com