Not Right

She gave two reasons, my mother did. Rationale for why she wouldn't be teaching me to cook. Recall that it is the early '60's in the South and thus her words may seem intemperate. First, there is the matter of my husband. No, I didn't have one at the time, but she was sure that I would.....eventually. Therefore, no need to teach me any culinary secrets as I would surely be concentrating on preparing whatever my husband liked to eat. I can't remember if I were incensed by this statement but surely I fumed just a bit. Secondly, if she tried to impart her cookery knowledge, she'd have to do so upside down. All the tasks would be alien to her right-handed brain. Fair enough, I suppose.

Those of us whose dominant hand preference is shared by a mere 10-15% of the population encounter such challenges routinely. With twice as many men exhibiting the trait as women, I'm part of a rather rarified group. If you seek definitions for left-handiness, you will find a collection of uncommon words. Sinistromanuality. Sinistrality. Mancinism. Hmmm. All sound inauspicious to me.

There's more. The French word for left is gauche which means 'clumsy,' 'awkward,' or 'graceless.' In Chinese, left means 'improper.' Could it be that these words were created by right-handed people?

Research indicates that the elite (as I like to think of the demographic) left-handed population is rife with above average high achievers. Of the last seven United States Presidents, four have been left-handed. Some might argue that among those seven, at least a few skewed the high achievers appellation.

Traditionally, left-handed students were unacceptable and every effort was made to 'correct' this problem. Extreme measures, including physical force, were often employed. The young child could but submit. The physical and psychological effects of such a major change to one's functions are profound.

At the age of five, I began first grade at a small country school. Almost immediately, my otherwise very competent teacher began to try and change the way I wrote. My mother, not a person to challenge authority, arrived in my classroom shortly thereafter. She made it very clear to Mrs. Hays that I was left-handed and left-handed I would always be. Thanks Mother.

I've noticed that men generally turn their left hand to the right and then proceed to write. I do not. My left hand remains perpendicular to the paper as I begin to form letters. The difference is demonstrated in the photo of President Obama signing a document and a high school photo taken when I was editor of the school paper.



Because there are so few lefties in the world, products are designed for the majority. Left-handed golf clubs can be purchased, as well as scissors crafted for ease of use. Try using a hair dryer whose buttons are on the wrong side. Or an iron. It is always necessary to turn the ironing board around in order to use it successfully.



When sitting at the table, lefties try to sit next to a fellow left-handed diner or select a position where nobody is sitting to his/her left. Otherwise, the potential for bumping a dinner guest is greatly enhanced.

I've wondered if I'd be a more competent driver if I lived in a country where people traditionally drive on the 'wrong' side of the road. Would my consummate left-handedness be an asset?

In homage to my dominant hand, I wear my watch on my right wrist. The face is turned inwards and therefore I can access the time quickly if I am busy writing or performing some other task at the moment.

My dear husband, who has grown accustomed to my left-handed quirks, designed our kitchen island to oblige this trait. He set the stovetop off-center and created a small area closest to the refrigerator for depositing items extracted from the cold. The genius of the island is that the commodious workspace is located to the left of the stovetop.



Computers offer opportunities for frustration. My mouse must be reconfigured each time the CPU is activated. For some reason, the wireless Logitech mouse will not retain the 'secondary' aka 'left-handed' position. Curious.

Have you ever noticed that left-handed people appear to clap backwards? Well, they do. We hold our right hand steady and use the left hand to slap its palm. Generally, left-handed people can be identified at an event simply by observing their clapping technique.

During my pregnancy twenty-nine years ago, I created a list of desirable traits for my daughter. Being left-handed made the list but she most definitely is not. I thought perhaps the gene might transfer but I'm much happier that she has her daddy's blue eyes.

How I came to be left-handed is a mystery. Both my parents were right-handed as was my brother. Three of my grandparents were right-handed and most likely also the grandfather I never met. A sprinkling of cousins manifest the trait and it's present in the next generations as well.

With all the necessary life concessions which left-handiness requires, I rather like the distinction. Somehow it sets me apart. Makes me different. I always notice others who are left-handed and feel a sort of transitory kinship.

Though my life has been minimally impacted by injuries, I have had a few accidents. A broken kneecap. Hyper-extended fingers requiring a cast. Broken toes. Bruised arch. All on the left side. Wonder what that means, if anything? Maybe I am truly gauche as the French would say.

No, that's not right.