Sharon Vander Meer, the Optic’s genial general manager managed to gift the staff in the newsroom and composing room with new Macintosh computers.
But before we bring out the champagne and dancing girls, let’s make it clear that we part-timers received only hand-me-downs. The handed-down computer beats the pre-Civil War version it replaces, but it still lacks the style, capacity and features of the new machines.
Hand-me-downs do not conjure up pleasant memories. What’s a boy to do, in 1940-something when he receives his older brother’s hand-me downs but is two inches taller than the brother who qualifies for the new clothes? But that’s the subject for another column.
The new(er) computer came just in time. Before that, most typing of stories necessitated bumping composing room employees Crystal Rivera or Maria Sanchez from their computers. Though accommodating, they used their I’m-being-patient expression to give me the message that I needed to leave the computers the way I found them. Translation: be sure to put the mouse back on the right side of the keyboard.
My reply was that the mouse WAS on the right side, i.e., the left side. As possibly the only left-hander at the Optic, I am nevertheless convinced that everybody else is out of step.
Right-handed people use the left side of their brain; therefore, left-handers are the only people in their right mind.
I remembered third-grade penmanship class at Immaculate Conception School with Sister Mary Margaret. After watching me at the board trying to make circles look less like goose eggs, the nun sent Marilyn and Jane to the board to show us all how it was done. Several of us practically retched as we watched as M and J earned indulgences as they made those oh-so-perfect globules. Interesting that they were allowed to take all day demonstrating their penmanship. People like me got swatted down after 10 seconds.
After several failed attempts on my part, the nun said, “What if we make him write with his right hand?” Then she answered her own question. “But I’ve heard that could cause him to stutter.”
An interview with the head teacher and the principal regarding this assumed handicap took on the air of the Second Vatican Council. The head teacher couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d caught me drinking out of a Mason jar, when my teacher announced I was obviously left-handed. “And that means there are now FOUR of them in our school.”
Sister Mary Margaret repeated her belief that switching from left to right-handedness causes speech impediments. I learned the names of two converts. Robert, a grade ahead of me, had nothing to say about the transformation. Dolly, a senior, was speechless.
The fact that there are numerous terms for left-handed people indicates its social stigma. You never hear of a person named “Righty,” but there is a “Lefty Frizzell.” Las Vegas once had a fine boxer nicknamed “Surdo,” Spanish for Lefty. Has anyone ever heard of a boxer named “Derecho”? A left-hander is known by several titles, including “portsider” and “southpaw.”
In an effort to boost the confidence of left-handers everywhere and perhaps discover that all of us are descendants of kings, I cracked open an unabridged dictionary and found that left-handed connotes “sinister,” “maladroit,” “awkward,” and “gauche.” How’s that for a left-handed compliment?
In some circles, left-handed refers to sexual orientation different from “straight.”
And what of northpaws and starboarders? For them the dictionary provides panegyrics like “adroit” and “dextrous.” If you’re right-handed, you’re considered reliable, according to Webster. You’re never in line for a promotion when the boss calls you the “left-hand man.”
Have you ever noticed that left-handers write with their hand curled? It has nothing to do with physiology, but rather with neatness. In the olden days, after we dipped our quill into a vial of ox blood, we’d smear the writing because a sinister person’s hand follows the moist writing fluid, whereas a “reliable” person’s writing would follow the hand, giving it plenty of time to dry.
We left-handers have had to cope with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Some merchants half-kiddingly question whether they should accept a check from an awkward person. Daily we gauche ones operate tools such as keyboards, instrument panels, cameras and kitchen appliances which were designed for dextrous folk, not for the gauche.
The first day of class in a lecture hall at Highlands featured some 80 desks with a flip-over slab, all designed for adroit people. Only recently has there been an effort to accommodate those of us in our right minds, and it’s fun to watch a reliable person struggle with a flip-over slab designed for the sinister.
What can we do to level the playing field so the maladroits aren’t left out in left field? For one thing, we can make left right and right wrong.
What if we made left right and right wrong in all our writing? It takes a bit of getting used to, but it gets easier.
Some people eat rightovers.
Education’s motto is “No child right behind.”
People undergo lefts of passage.
We can underleft the costs.
Just as the P.C. movement has discouraged the use of solely male references (person instead of man, etc), we lefthanders need to fight for our cause.
Let’s get left down to work on it.