Handedness is the tendency of a person to use one hand exclusively in the performance of specialized voluntary functions, such as writing, grasping, throwing and eating.
Although all of my family members were totally right-handed, I turned out differently. I am neither completely left-handed nor completely right-handed, and I am certainly not ambidextrous.
I write with my right hand, but I unscrew bottle caps with my left hand because I know that my left hand is stronger than my right hand, but, strangely, I use my right hand when I manipulate tools, rakes and snow shovels.
I play ping pong right-handed, but I bowl left-handed, and when I had a BB gun as a kid, I fired it left-handed, and when I played baseball, I batted both ways, but I was more effective batting left-handed.
When I eat, I can use either hand to manipulate a fork or spoon, but I cut meat right-handed and raise a drinking glass left-handed.
I attribute the reason why I throw left-handed to the fact that when I was 6 years old, a friend of the family gave me my first baseball mitt, and it fit on my right hand. Therefore, I can blame Mr. Rubin for making me a southpaw hurler.
The social implications associated with handedness are evident from the manner in which mechanical devices are built.
Since the majority of people are right handed — or so I have been told — equipment is designed for their convenience, thereby necessitating degrees of awkward movements by left-handers when using mechanical equipment. This may well be true with many lefties, but my wife and our youngest daughter are totally left-handed, and I am amazed at how they handle kitchen equipment, write and use mechanical devices with great skill.
Those few persons who are ambidextrous may profit by their equal ability and skill with both hands, but this ability is quite uncommon.
Three of the four dentists I have gone to were right-handed. The fourth one was left-handed, and all of the dental equipment was situated on my left side. The dental experience was different, but the outcome was quite satisfactory.
If a dentist has the facility of being ambidextrous, he/she will be at a decided advantage in being able to approach a patient’s mouth from various angles.
I have heard that ambidexterity can be developed through practice.
An example of the opposite of this belief occurred when I played sandlot football. No matter how I tried, I succeeded only in being able to fumble the football with both hands thus making me worthless as a ball handler, and, therefore, relegating me to the position of blocker.
Even though I am neither a true rightie nor a true leftie, I am generally able to handle items — except footballs — with passable dexterity (which comes from Latin, meaning right-handed).
John Stanger is a lifelong resident of Oak Park, a 1957 graduate of OPRF High School, married with three grown children and five grandchildren, and a retired English professor (Elmhurst College). Living two miles from where he grew up, he hasn’t gotten far in 77 years.