Oh Wamama...I cry every time I hear that song.....it reminds of my dad for sure. My dad's hands did tell a story....or many stories....he worked hard from before sun up until sun down sometimes...and when the work let up ...late at night after we all were in bed and he thought no one could hear: he'd be playing his guitar or banjo and singin' ... he was shy with his singin' but he could sing and I think it soothed his soul for his soul surely needed soothing. He encouraged us to make music. He didn't treat us like slaves on the farm and wanted us to always make time for music because he felt that was the best thing on earth really: music.