Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Granny Style

I'm kind of weird. I'm what I guess is called ambidextrous. I write with my right hand, but I do just about everything else with my left hand.

I had to teach myself how to eat with my right hand, because when there are 10 people crowded around a small table, you have to use your right hand. I still cut meat with my left hand, but that's not as big a deal.

Because all of my siblings are right-handed and because I write with my right hand, my dad was convinced I was not left-handed (even though that's how I often referred to myself). We didn't have a whole lot of money growing up. Going out to eat was saved for very special occasions, and likewise going to the movies or bowling or other kinds of activities that cost a deal of money for such a large brood.

When we had a day off school for a holiday, we did whatever my dad had in mind. He wouldn't often tell us about it beforehand. Instead, we'd just pile into the van and go wherever he took us.

When we'd go bowling, he was so determined that I was right-handed that he would not let me bowl with my left hand. Now, I'd try to throw the ball with my right hand, but it was an utter disaster. So I ended up bowling with the ball between my legs. Until I decided I was too old to keep bowling like that. One time, I threw the ball with my left hand in rebellion, against my father's demands. My mother stood up for me and my father, upset, stormed out of the bowling alley.

He walked the approximately 4 1/2 miles from the bowling alley to our house. And the rest of us stayed and bowled, but I felt horribly guilty for upsetting him. I wished I'd just bowled "granny style" instead of making him walk in the heat all the way home and ruining the day for us all.

To this day, I still feel frustrated when I bowl. I've learned that the balls are drilled for right-handed people, which puts left-handed bowlers at a disadvantage unless you bring your own ball. And I'm not anywhere near good enough to make up for that handicap. I guess that's part of the reason why I don't bowl much.


Francis and Fawn Becker said...

Love your blog! You are a talented writer :)

erin said...

That's hilarious. I can't believe that it bothered your dad that much. Is it a disease? :)