Knuckle dragging Cosgriffs

One of the more famous of the 'they say' flippancies is that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Perhaps in my case the knuckles don't come far enough off the ground.
Okay, that's hyperbole. But I noticed years ago that both me Grandpa Joe and his eldest son, me Pops, would routinely scrape their knuckles horribly. I do mean horribly too. Several times they would bleed so bad that Joe or Pops would take the oversized paisley hankerchiefs each always had on them and draw them tightly across their wounded knuckles, and hold the ends equally tightly in their fists as makeshift bandages. Very often in my youth and young adulthood I found myself thinking that they needed to be more careful, be in less of the hurries they were frequently in, to avoid scraping their knuckles so awfully. Of course, I never said that to either of them. One does not lecture one's father or grandfather.
I'm glad that I never did, and for two reasons. One, they were as stated my father and grandfather. If what they were doing was so critical as to risk injury, who was I to criticize? And two, dash it all, I've begun scraping my knuckles seriously enough that it was tough to stanch the bleeding. Just yesterday in fact, as I worked a snake to open the lines in my laundry tub. This with heavy gloves on too I should say. And it was not the first time of late that I've scraped my knuckles.
Yes, I need to simply pay more attention and not hurry so much. Still, in an odd sort of way, I wear the wounds proudly.