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Lefties Are Right . . . Sometimes!
by Wes Wilson

On the way to and from work I drive by the downtown walking track. As a matter of fact, when Iím gone, dead and gone, theyíll name that little section of South Bayou ďWilsonís Way,Ē because I use it more than anybody. I sometimes become obsessive, possessive about the things and people I love. Iím a little crazy that way. That little section of road is mine, people!

Anyway, Iíve noticed that people, naturally, walk in a counterclockwise direction around the walking track, as if natural instincts compel them to stay to the right and make left-handed turns on the ends. You could say it comes from driving on the right side of the road, but the British donít walk clockwise around circular tracks. Think of auto racing, think NASCAR. Everyone knows stock cars go counterclockwise, except for that Allen Kulwiki victory lap thing, but thatís another story, somebody elseís story. This all got me to thinking.

Maybe itís a right-handed thing. Most of the world is right-handedó90-93%. Have you ever asked a left-handed person if their first instinct in walking a circular track is to go to the left, turn to the right, and walk in a clockwise fashion?

Now before you think Iím going to disparage all left-handers, youíre wrong. Some of the most important people in my life were or are left-handed: my Grandmother Wilson, my father, my wife, and my son. Left-handers are good people, and as my daddy used to say, ďWe are in our right mind.Ē Being a left-handed, right-brained person means you will tend to think more creatively, while we right-handed, left-brained have to work a little harder at artistic expression. The left side of the brain is the pragmatic side, the ducks-in-a-row side. And, boy, do I ever like to have my ducks in a row.

Little Myrtle Davidson tried to use her right hand in school, like teachers insisted, but her pencil was always in the wrong hand, the left one, when the teacher walked by. So the teacher watched Myrtle, diligently; each time she caught Myrtle using her left hand, she sneaked up to give Myrtle a sharp rap across tender knuckles with a wooden ruler. Of course, Myrtleís pencil quickly found its way into the right hand. Then, when the teacher wearied of watching, she tied Myrtleís left hand behind her back.

Tell that to your child when he or she comes home complaining that school is too hard.

How archaic was that? But Myrtle, my grandmother, learned to write with her right hand and also learned to use right-handed scissors when sewing for Home Economics. She became somewhat ambidextrous in a right-handed world.

My father used to complain about all the tools made for right-handed people, and so on and so forth. The complaints never ended. He did own left-handed guns, which upon his passing I claimed for my son.

Have you ever thought about why most nuts and bolts are made with right-handed threads? You know, clockwise on, counterclockwise off? My theory is that properly tightening a nut is the most important process, and this puts the wrench on the right-hand side of the bolt so a right-hander can use his most powerful arm to pull in a downward arc, thereby using maximum torque with minimal effort.

I can see the mechanics now, scratching their heads, saying, ďWell, Iíll use my right-handed people to tighten nuts and my left-handed people to loosen them.Ē

A few years ago my wife bought a plug-in, smell-good thing from Bath & Body Works. It never fails that when I replace the cartridge I twist and turn with all my might before realizing the thing has left-handed threads. Why it has left-handed threads I donít know. When I finally give up and realize the hopelessness of the situation, Iíve already used every ounce of testosterone in my body to tighten, not loosen, that little globe-full of smell-good. So then I have to use a rag or something and force my brain to tell my hand to twist to the right, clockwise. Then, inevitably, when the globe will not budge, I have to assure myself: ďThis thing does have left-handed threads, doesnít it?Ē

Itís as if Iím trying to talk myself into believing what I already know as fact. Then I find some inner strength or big pliers or a hammer or something. Itís the devil.

Just so you will know, Ronald Reagan and George H. W. Bush were left-handed, so were Jimmie Carter, Bill Clinton, and now Barak Obama. Is there a pattern here?

Yes, most definitely.

They would all prefer to walk around a circular track in a clockwise fashion, and they like to take nuts off, not tighten them. Oh, you donít believe me? I think Iíll lobby Congress for a few billion of stimulus money to study this phenomenon.


BIO: Wes Wilson began writing at the age of 24 in 1982, a young, simple farmer only wanting to breathe vibrancy into an otherwise placid existence. For the next 13 years Wes worked at half-a-dozen different jobs, he and his family moving from place to place, and Wes still writing, page upon page of handwritten work, beset by the gift God gave him. Then, in 1995, a new and greater calling was placed upon his life: a still, quiet voice urging him not to give up on seeing his words in print. Since that time Wes has been on a mission, compiling and publishing two novels, A Jealous God and Nor Gloom of Night, and each demonstrates his knack for writing inspirational fiction. His next manuscript Where the Fowl Gather, a tale of early life in Bolivar County, Mississippi, is currently with the editor.

Read more about author Wes Wilson at his web site: WesWords.com
And contact him at wesnall@tcworks

Want to leave a comment on Wesís story?
Please visit our Message Board or write Ye Editor at bethjacks@hotmail.com.

Hereís another Wes Wilson story at USADEEPSOUTH:
Skiing On the Catfish Pond

Wes Wilson has published his second novel Nor Gloom of Night. This book, like the first, is a mystery set in the Mississippi Delta, available through bookstores, Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.com. For an excerpt, visit Wes' website WES WORDS.

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