Nobody but me cares about this, so just skip it.

It takes me forever to put 2+2 together.

I knew the Daily O photographer Steve B from the olden days, as I'd been married to a reporter. When he came to take my picture in June we had a bit of old home week talk, then discussed a few other things including leading hands, as my left hand is my good one. He's left-handed - I said I'd always been, luckily, tending to the ambidextrous end of the spectrum although I wrote and painted with my right hand. After I said I had vague memories I didn't really trust of having been, once, left-handed, he said, "Maybe you were," as in those days it was something they tried to train you out of. I was sure that wasn't it, though.

I have various old memories that are entirely distinct and that I can see clearly in my mind's eye. One is being a baby in a highchair in England when a jack-in-the-box jumped out in front of me. I have lots, actually. I remember being up high and looking down on a school pageant, watching my older sister in a group of students. Anyway, as I got older of course there are more memories. I can remember a couple of dreams I had - one from when I was 6. I dreamt a giant daddy longlegs came out of the cellar and my father and brother battled it. I can see it clearly. I went to school, having woken up thinking it was real, and told an older girl. She said, "Perhaps you were dreaming," and POOF! just like that I realised I HAD been dreaming.

Anyway, one thing I clearly remember is my brother mowing the lawn with a rotary push mower, and me (brattishly) saying, "Let me!" There was a slight step in the lawn and I was on the lower part. He said, "Catch!" and let slip the mower, and I reached my hands out. Remember, we were both children. Then I remember crying and wailing, holding up my right arm as blood ran down as I went up to the house.

Our doctor sewed the end of my finger on again with sutures of two different colors. His name was Dr. Aikenhead (no, I'm not making it up). He reckoned I was lucky not to've lost my finger(s). I never did hold a pencil as others did, after that.

Obviously THAT'S why I remember having been, briefly, left-handed. It has come in handy, I think, that early training.