Okay, I know I’m probably the only person that acknowledges this day. I remember it because it’s the day before my birthday. I prefer to focus on the fact that it’s Left Hander’s Day versus the fact it’s Friday the 13th.
My first memory of being left-handed goes back to preschool. They had the really cool left-handed scissors with the green grip. Note: I was the only left-handed kid in the class but everyone wanted to use those damn scissors.
It also reminds me of my dad. He started out left-handed. No his parents didn’t force him to switch. He thought he was Captain Marvel, jumped out of a tree (thinking he’d be able to fly?!) and broke his left arm. He learned to write with his right hand in the meantime. And his penmanship took a huge dent for that.
I like to blame the fact that I’m clumsy on the myth that lefties tend to die earlier because we’re challenged. I’ll admit, I have zero hand-eye coordination. I remember in high school P.E. when we had to play softball my dad let me use his old left-handed mitt. Perfect, right? No, as a result the P.E. teacher thought I actually played because I had my own mitt. I was telling someone recently that I loved when my team would go into the outfield. It took the pressure off me having to go to bat. And most importantly, I could talk to my girlfriends while we were in the outfield. Outfield in my mind was awesome.
The idea that lefties are more creative works for me. I would definitely describe myself as a creative type. I think every roommate I had in college would agree with that. By the end of each year, the wall by my bed looked like a fashion catalog. The first year, I feared I’d be charged. Then I learned that they repainted the rooms each year. So my pencil sketches became a non-issue.
Whether you’re lefty or righty (that just sounds weird!) enjoy your Friday!