Left in the World of RightPlenty of moons ago
Was placed an original fate
For love produced a child
Born number six of eight
She grew in the world of right
Although she often was wrong
Condemned with ropes of restraint
Because her left was strong
In school the desks were a bother
As were notebooks, rulers and books
Her penmanship was called atrocious
For her hand resembled a hook
Padlocks, stick shifts, and butter knives
Scissors and ink pens the same
Each presented a challenge
And each she overcame
She grew in the world of right
And the same remains today
For the rest will always be left
To conform in a bassackwards way
In a world which has for centuries functioned from a right-hand dominant perspective, the only persons able to recognize the prejudice of such a viewpoint are those whose hand dominance differs from the majority, namely, left-hand dominant individuals. In such a society, right-minded individuals are thought to be sensible and fair; upright (righteous) and unlikely to make left-handed (ironic and insincere) remarks, or leave their listeners out in left field by their commentary (an erroneous or very unconventional position or state). One must strive to BE right (correct, true, accurate) and always DO right (morally and appropriately) in this world in order to stay ahead - or at the very least right behind Number 1(immediately, exactly) - never to be left behind (abandoned, alone).
Hmmmmmmm ...I wonder if handedness has anything to do with blogging. Which hand do you favor?
4 comments:
You seriously need to write a book-or maybe you already have?
I'm a right handed person from a family of right handed folks. One of my girls is left -one is right. They are mirror images.
Alas, I am a righty. However, my mother is very nearly perfectly ambidextrous in many things, including knitting, coloring, and the passing of surgical instruments. Her father was our "token" lefty and I remember several episodes of dinner-table planning, in order to place him where elbows wouldn't be clashing with a righty. I do believe I had the last of the "thou-shalt-be-right-handed" kindergarten teachers. The only lefty who was allowed to emerge among us managed to do so because his parents were loudly adamant that Mrs. Van Ry not force him to change. I remember getting my eager little fingers on the green-rubber-handled "Lefty" scissors before Jack did one day, and it just all finally seemed to click. But then Mrs. Van Ry came along and took them away from me, because there was only the one pair of Lefty scissors, and they were for Jack. And so I was handed a stupid old boring pair of "regular" scissors, and I remember always having to struggle to make them work "right." I also remember thinking it wasn't fair that the Lefty scissors had rubber-coated handles, while the ones I was forced to use hurt my fingers and could very well have done with a bit of padding.
My handwriting has always been atrocious as well. I was never happier than when we stopped geting penmanship grades, and my teachers were never happier than when I finally got a computer in high school and started turning most everything in typed.
And so I suspect I coulda been a lefty--if "left" to my own devices, that is...
sarah gracias por leer tu blog esta muy interesante, me gusto mucho_: el trabajo de las quilts esta genial. Tu poesia; un regalo. Segui contando con esta "fan".
love from Moira
PD: publica algo en castellano para tus amigas argentinas
¡Que sorpresa linda leer tu mensaje, Moira! Me olvidé que te mandé la noticia de mi blog. Voy a intentar a escribir una de las próximas en castellano al honor de mis queridas argentinas. Un abrazo fuerte a ti, amiga mía. xoxo,
sarah
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