A Twisted Finger of Fickle Fate

Southcoast, MA – A few years ago, about six to be exact, I found a hard lump just above the large knuckle of my small finger on the palm-side my right hand. At first I thought it was somehow related to my past occupation as a cook where I would have a chef knife in my hand for sometimes twelve or more hours a day. In one of the places I worked, everyone, from the executive chef on down the line, peeled roomfuls of Macomber turnips, the size of bowling balls, for almost the entire day. We fed hundreds of people in one sitting.

The doctor I went to said it was a trigger finger and to massage it. That didn’t work. My new doctor (had nothing to do with the finger) said they weren’t sure what it was but it was getting worse and the finger was now at a permanent ninety-degree angle. No fun since washing your face became an exercise in avoiding poking yourself in the eye. The new doctor referred me to an orthopedic specialist. The first words out of the specialist’s mouth were - it’s a genetic disease you’ve inherited from your Viking ancestors.

What, me a Viking? For some silly reason Viking trumped the word disease in my head. So, I couldn’t be over six feet tall with blue eyes or something. A Viking, what the heck is he talking about? Then it struck me. My father’s side is traced back to Normandy, France to the birth of our ancestor Noel Fortier dit Leforestier in 1593. The dit is kind of the same thing as an AKA. The family name was changed when Noel and his son Antoine arrived in Quebec in 1654.

Vikings, as we commonly refer to them today, was really a description for people whose occupation was sneaking up little streams and creeks, known as viks, to plunder whatever they could from the folks who lived in the area. The people who shared this occupation were composed of the Norse, seafaring Scandinavians from Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. These Norse were actually Germans who “visited” and remained behind on their “business travels” to Sweden and Denmark some time before the birth of Christ.

The Scandinavians were excellent shipbuilders. Noel was in the shipbuilding trade – interesting even if it’s only coincidental. Must have been in the blood! The Vikings then, produced light, swift sailing ships that could also used with oars called long ships. The design for these ships originally developed for trading use. But the Vikings were also fierce warriors who raided the European coast in search of wealthy, and undefended coastal communities. They were so fierce that we’ve inherited the children’s nightly prayer: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep supposedly originated as a result of the Viking terror (can’t find a reference for this but I know I read it somewhere).

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
if I die before I wake,
I pray for Lord my soul to take.

So with that in mind, that’s how I inherited my twisted finger. Of course, eventually the raiding stopped and everyone got along. Somehow, in all of this history, I got the fickle finger of fate. It’s called Dupuytren’s Contracture – lucky me! Then again, I’m sure somebody out there would trade my finger for whatever they’re dealing with in a heartbeat. [AUTHOR’S NOTE: Photo is from the Mayo Foundation for Medical Education & Research. I would have photographed my finger but the one here looks like it. Mine is worse.] Hey, until I do a DNA test, for all I know, the finger could have come from the Sephardic Jewish side of the family.

In the movie, Forrest Gump, Forrest muses, "Jenny, I don't know if mama was right, or if it's Lieutenant Dan, I don't know if we each have a destiny or if we're all just floatin' around accidental like on a breeze... but I think, maybe it's both. Maybe both are happening at the same time..." The feather was a central symbol in this movie and, in my opinion; it represented both destiny and freewill. Forrest’s momma told him that, “Well, I happened to believe you make your own destiny. You have to do the best with what God gave you.” Forrest: What's my destiny, Momma? Mrs. Gump: You're gonna have to figure that out for yourself. Life is a box of chocolates, Forrest. You never know what you're gonna get.

In deed Mrs. Gump, indeed! If destiny then is something that will happen or has happened as a predetermined, inevitable or irresistible event, then who or what determines that event? Is a god (not capitalized because I’m not referring to any one god in particular) or a gene or luck and, if it is luck, what god or force is in operation? Luck swings both ways; for good or ill. But, does it determine a life, a circumstance or the quantity or quality of opportunities? Or, is all this about chance? Chance is about the absence of any intervention or plan or power. Why all this contemplation over a twisted finger? Doris Day had a hit song - Que Sera Sera – here are a few lines of the lyrics:

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

My dad never saw anyone with a finger like mine and my older cousins in Canada haven’t either. I’ve scanned the family photo album from Canada that has photos going back to the 1860’s and, unless they were hiding it, I never saw anyone with one like it. I was self-conscious of it especially when shaking hands; probably a memory of some juvenile cultural behavior. Surgery will fix it but there’s no guarantee I’m told that it won’t revert to its present posture.

My ancestor, Antoine Fortier, Noel’s son, married one of the richest women in Canada, Marie-Madeleine Cadieux, but ended up being pulled to the bottom of the St. Lawrence River when his leg got caught in his boat’s anchor line. I talked about him in my Tangles, Bangles & Angles (02-18-11) post. Was it destiny, bad luck or chance? Now, how about genes? I’ve always been fascinated with untangling string – genetic memory perhaps? Hope I don’t get my finger caught in anything.