choosing sides

For reasons difficult to fathom, I‘ve always wanted to be left-handed. In elementary school, I’d grab the green-handled scissors meant for lefties and try, mostly unsuccessfully, to cut shapes out of construction paper. In fourth grade, when we learned to write in cursive, I hated the way that my left hand couldn’t seem to master what my right hand managed so easily. Because I‘ve made a conscious effort to do it that way, I mouse left-handed, pleased that there is finally something I can do better with my left hand. And I‘ve always had a thing for left-handed guys. (Why yes, Dr. Freud, my father is left-handed. How ever did you know?)

While I was writing this post, I looked up a bunch of facts and myths relating to left and right and found two that I wanted to share. First, though it’s hard to imagine circumstances under which this information, even if true, would be useful, both cats and polar bears are said to be left-handed. Second, Civil War recruits were taught to distinguish left from right by having a few wisps of hay tied to their left foot and straw to their right foot, then being set to march to the chant “Hay-foot, straw-foot, hay-foot, straw-foot.” After I read this story, it occurred to me that while I can fairly reliably tell my left from my right, I’m not at all sure that I know the difference between hay and straw.

In any event: are you a lefty or a righty? Southpaw or northpaw? Port or starboard?

Note: This is one of those questions that calls for only one tiny little word in response (or even just L or R if you’re especially lazy or busy), so I’m hoping that some of you lurkers will vote. If you’re ambidextrous, you can even vote twice.