I wish that I could recall more of my left handed childhood. But the fact that I can recall only a few instances where it elicited comment from my parents or others, means to me that there was no fuss over it. It was normal, nothing to get excited over. Of course, my dad would’ve been acquainted with lefties before my birth. He came from a family of twelve kids, and a few of them were left handed.

I’d ask him and my mom about it if I could. They died over twenty years ago, and all those memories went with them. All the aunts and uncles are also gone, so my meager remembrances and those of my sisters will have to do. Hopefully, what we come up with will be useful, interesting, or at least entertaining to other lefties, and the righties who struggle to understand them.

Can’t recall ever being teased for being a “lefty”. Teased for being a “Four-Eyes” for sure. Unmercifully. (Had cataract surgery years ago and don’t need glasses much now!) Anyway . . . I can’t recall being ridiculed or punished–nope, wait . . . except for the time I asked about guitar lessons from one of the local music shops. The guy rudely informed me he wasn’t about to waste his time with me unless I was willing to learn right handed. Just too much hassle, and if I really wanted to learn, I’d do it his way.

Well, I wasn’t about to do it his way. Why should I have to be the one put out? The little bit I had learned at the time, I’d learned from a crazy bunch of people who rented the upstairs apartment of our house. They were part of a country band, and they practiced right at home almost every night. Fortunately, my parents loved country music since you could hear ’em all over the neighborhood. My mom and I often went up to watch. The dad of the bunch quite happily began teaching me the chords. He had such a cheerful optimistic attitude about my being left handed, praised my progress regularly. Total opposite of Mr. Rude.

Never could afford a real lefty guitar, though. They were always more than the righties. All because the strings had to go the opposite way . . . tons of extra expense in that, eh? So, I either played the thing upside down, or just restrung it.

In any case, at the time I asked for lessons from Mr. Rude, I had already learned most of the chords. But he never even let me say so. I don’t think I went back to that place until I learned he’d left it. Bought my accordion there years later.

It is true, though, that I am the sort of lefty who uses her right hand for some things. While I write and eat with my left hand, I throw balls and bowl with my right. Just as I would play guitar left handed, I’d shoot a gun, or an arrow from a bow left handed. (At targets–not breathing things.) In school, when I got to write at the blackboard, well, it didn’t matter which hand I used. I could use them both equally, and so I’d change from left to right without missing a stroke.

That is, I did once I learned I was <i>supposed</i> to write from left to right . . .

I can recall my mom meeting my dad at the door when he got home from work this one day, just eager to show him one of the first papers I’d done in first grade. I remember standing there smiling proudly while my work was examined. Dad looked it over for a long time before uttering, “Why did you do this?” Then, wholly mystified, he added, “How did you do this?” He needed a mirror to read it. Heh–-all the answers were right-–and that’s what counts. Right?

Frankly, I couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t read it. Didn’t everyone write that way?

I can see that in my mind like it happened last week. Was actually sixty plus years ago. Wish she’d kept that paper. Would’ve been fun to check it out now!

Dad finally got me to write the “right” way, but they never discouraged me from using my left hand. Four kids, my parents had. Three girls and a boy.

All us girls are left handed. How’s that for the male-female ratio?

Laura is left handed in the same way I am. However, her use of her left hand is more clumsy. She may not agree, but I do recall it being remarked while we were growing up. However, this clumsiness didn’t get in her way when she was designing egg art! No one ever thought she’d be the one to produce such gorgeous pieces! She doesn’t do it anymore, more’s the pity . . .

Cyndy uses her right hand for a few more things than Laurie and I do, apparently. Cyndy’s a paralegal who loves to line dance. All of us have, upon occasion, worked in the health care field. We all love horses, hiking, and getting together for Sisters’ Weekend. Which didn’t happen this year. Too much life happening for us all . . . Bummer.

I’m a writer with a few published works–which, I guess, makes me an Author. I’m a poor musician of the accordion, as well as guitar. I love the accordion as most don’t. But, you see, my left-handedness let me learn how to play the bass buttons on my accordion much more easily than most of the other students at the time. Yeah, my instructors were thrilled with me! I say I play poorly—let me modify that. I don’t play anything terribly complicated. Never kept it up as I’d planned to. So I play the simple things quite well. Someday, I’ll take it back up and move on to something “more grown up”. Like polkas and such. Once I get it tuned . . .

IMHO, the accordion is as maligned as we lefties are. Guess that’s why I loved—love—it so much!

Love to listen to bagpipes, too.

Besides us, and whoever on my dad’s side, there’s at least two nephews, a great-nephew, my father-in-law, two of my brothers-in-law, and quite a few friends, both past and present who are left handed. Don’t know all of my cousins on my father’s side, so who knows how many others there could be. With some help, I’ll track them down, and see if they’ll help me make this site the best lefty site it can be. Won’t say it’ll be the best in the universe. Yet, anyway . . . 🙂 Maybe they’ll let me post photos–of their hands, at least . .

In any case, I hope you’ll find enough here to entertain and enlighten to keep coming back to check for updates and to shop from the many outlets I’ve listed for your convenience.