Civil Lefts

“Oh there ain’t no other way,

Baby I was born this way” – Lady Gaga

I’m tired of being a minority and I’m fed up with the discrimination against people like me. I’ve had it with living in a country where my rights are going unrecognized. Today I went to my local postal store where I had to use a pen, attached with a chain, to the wrong side of the counter. The chain was too short. So, I had to precariously contort the pen and my envelope without knocking the display of bookmarks and miniflashlights to the floor. I’m sick of adapting to a world that ignores me for who I am and for how I was made:

Left-handed.

Since our government is doling out civil rights, it’s time for action. I want my civil rights too. And I’m not stopping until I have them …even if I have to go all the way to the Supreme Court of the United States.

This is a serious matter and I’m not making light of the necessary changes we’ve made as a society. But if handicapped people can have ramps and blind people can have those little raised bumps on corner intersections, then I want left and right chained pens at banks and postal stores.

Go ahead and laugh. Now head to the kitchen and try to open a can of soup. But do it left-handed. Put the can opener in your left hand and twist the knob with your right. See what I mean? Then take a pair of scissors and attempt to cut something left-handed. Good luck. Welcome to my world.

Over ten percent of the population is left-handed. And yet the difficulties we face living in a right-handed world are virtually ignored. The constant ink smears on our hands from writing over what’s already been written. Elbow jousting with dinner companions and battling with spiral notebooks or three-ring binders.

Being left-handed in a right-handed world is psychologically harmful. I still have nightmares from the college lecture halls and classrooms where the ameba-shaped writing surface was attached on the right. While my right-handed classmates listened comfortably, I had to take notes sitting sidesaddle in my desk, with my palm balanced on the spiral binding of my notebook, and my pinky finger smeared with ink.

Even the love of my life discriminates against me. In baseball, three infield positions require right-handed fielders. I’ve never known the intensity of playing third base. Nor have I turned a double play as a shortstop or second baseman.

Left-handers, according to many sources, may die as many as nine years earlier than right-handers. I need my civil rights before my life and health insurance companies prematurely cancel my policies.

Then there’s the stigma that lefties before me have endured. For instance:

• At various times in history, left-handedness has been seen as a nasty habit, a mark of the devil, a sign of neurosis, rebellion, and criminality.

• The word left in English comes from the Anglo-Saxon word lyft, which means weak or broken. The Oxford English Dictionary defines left-handed as meaning crippled, defective, awkward, and clumsy.

• Phrases in English suggest a negative view of left-handedness. For example, a “left-handed complement” is actually an insult.

• The German for “left-handed’ is linkisch, which means awkward, clumsy, and maladroit. In Italian, the word is mancino, which is derived from “crooked” or “maimed” (mancus) and is also used to mean deceitful or dishonest. In Russian, to be called a left-hander (levja) is a term of insult;

• In Latin, the word for left is sinister, related to the noun sinistrum.

Only the Incas had things in proper perspective. They thought left-handers were capable of healing and that they possessed magical abilities. No wonder I enjoyed Machu Picchu so much.

It’s time for change! In addition to the aforementioned pen issue, my civil rights demands are as follows:

• Left-handed scissors and can openers in every home.
• More notebooks with the spiral on the right or the top.
• Three-ring binders for lefties.
• All schools and universities be required to install more left-handed desks.
• The invention of non-smearing ink, pencil lead, and markers.
• Left-handed credit-card machines in all stores.
• Microwaves and keyboards with the buttons and numbers on the left.

Public awareness is going to be essential. Hollywood and the entertainment industry must get on board. The upcoming movie Southpaw is a good start. I think some biopics on prominent historical figures like Henry Ford, Albert Einstein, Beethoven, Marie Curie, DaVinci, and Michaelangelo are a must. The fact that they were all left-handed needs to overshadow their musical, artistic, scientific, and industrial achievements. I’ll also need a symbol, a flag, and a color that can be easily recognized and identified with my cause. I’m open to suggestions here.

Our Supreme Court has two left-handed judges (Ginsburg and Kennedy) so I think my case will be heard. If that doesn’t work I’ll have to meet with the Southpaw in Chief. President Obama must take up the cause of all lefties and guarantee my civil rights before he leaves office.

I’ve always been deeply proud of my left-handedness. It’s a badge of honor and membership in a private club.  And even if I can’t be a middle-infielder, at least I’m a step or two closer to first base when at the plate.

I don’t have equality with right-handers yet. But change will come. In the meantime, I’ll be working on my Machu Picchu hocus-pocus and my Incan-tations.

Making Wedding Cakes with Jesus

A new bakery named Seven Loaves opened up around the corner from me. I noticed a “help wanted” sign in its window so I inquired within to see if the owner could use an assistant for the summer.

The aroma of freshly baked breads filled my senses as I stepped into the bakery. A few tables and chairs were neatly arranged around the room. A large glass case displayed some lovely breads and pastries. A second case was filled with beautiful cakes. There were large sheet cakes for birthdays and anniversaries as well as several multi-tiered, multi-flowered wedding cakes. A counter filled the space between the two cases.

 Much to my surprise, Jesus was behind the counter.

I asked about the job and He directed me to have a seat. The Bread of Life brought over two coffees and pair of croissants. Obviously, a million questions were running through my mind, but I thought I’d stay on point.

“Are you still hiring?” I asked.

“I am,” He replied.

Jesus explained that He handles the day-to-day operations on his own. But that He could use some assistance for a few hours in the afternoon. He needs help while he takes wedding cake orders because he likes to sit down and get to know the people who are getting married.  

I told Him I’d be happy to help out and he said come to back tomorrow at noon for my first shift. I arrived the next day and watched as Jesus interacted with customers. He taught me to work the register and showed me how He liked things done. Soon thereafter a young couple arrived to discuss their wedding cake. They were in their late-twenties and looked very much in love. I watched from behind the counter as Jesus sat with them for over an hour. Their conservation was filled with laughter. Jesus showed them pictures of cakes they could choose from and gave them several samples to taste-test.

This scenario played out identically over the next three days as Jesus met with more couples. On the fifth day, a gay couple arrived for their wedding-cake appointment. The meeting looked to go as smoothly as the others and concluded with the couple placing a cake order.

“Jesus, you make cakes for gay weddings?” I asked as soon as the couple was gone.

“It would be rather bad for business if I didn’t,” He answered.

“So, you’re ok with gay couples getting married?

Jesus looked at me, slyly. I could tell He was thinking. It was an electric moment. I was about to get the definitive stance on homosexuality straight from the Son of God.

Instead, Jesus said, “Let me tell you about the people I’ve met this week. The first couple, Tom and Megan, used to know me when they were younger. But Tom’s parents got divorced and he lost interest in me. Megan got her heart broken by a guy and she gave up on me. They met in college and have been together for eight years. Tom fudges his expense reports and Megan lies to all her girlfriends about how great she thinks her life is.

“Then in came William and Jenna. They don’t have a church background at all but they believe my father exists. They think that if they stick to being good and don’t hurt anybody, all will be fine. However, William has a drinking problem … that he hides from Jenna … and Jenna secretly steals things from stores.

“Jack and Anna were next. These guys don’t believe in me. Their gods are consumerism and possessions. They just bought a big house and they want fancy furniture, every top-of-the-line gadget, and two luxury sedans in the garage.

“Then yesterday I saw Samuel and Eva. They are beloved friends of mine. I’ve known them for years. They serve at their church, teach Sunday school, and feed the homeless. But, Samuel has a temper on him. He is working on it though. And poor Eva, she’s such a worrier. She’s going to get an ulcer if she doesn’t stop. I keep telling her to mix in some trust. I think I’m finally breaking through, but it takes time.

“Which brings us to Stuart and Patrick …”

I waited for Jesus to lump homosexuality in with everybody else’s sins.

“… Deep down they believe in me and they’ve even sought out churches they’d be comfortable attending. But it’s hard. It’s easier to stay away.”

“So, they don’t have any glaring sins?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Stuart has major pride issues and Patrick eats way too much.”

“So, Jesus,” I asked, “It’s not about the S…E…X?”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m not into labels; I’m concerned with the heart. Sin is sin. As you can see everybody’s broken and needs healing. I came to redeem all sins for everyone. My grace, my death, my love, forgiveness, and life … are for everybody. For anybody who wants them more than they want their sins.

Jesus tossed some baking flour on the counter and started writing in it with his finger. I watched silently. I thought of the Bible story in which the adulterous woman was brought before Jesus. I hoped he wouldn’t write my sins in the flour.

If it came down to sin,” Jesus said breaking the silence, “Nobody would get a cake.”

“Instead, everybody gets one,” I replied.

“Plus I love weddings,” he said. “Stuart and Patrick just dropped off my invitation.”

“Are you going?”

“Certainly. Who do you think is providing the wine?”

The Wide World of Baseball

Baseball is now a global sport. Players on the 30 Major League rosters hail from 21 different countries. Last year, the Dodgers and the Diamondbacks opened the season with a series in Australia. And every two years I hear reports about something called the World Baseball Classic, though I’ve never watched any of it. And since the baseball season is two months old, it’s way past time to open up the Baseball Dictionary for my annual column of obscure terms from our pastime. This time I’ll be circling the globe for the top geographical terms from its 974 pages.

  

A is Australian Wool – This term came from the supposedly livelier ball in 1919. Apparently, all the heavy hitters of the PED era obtained their steroids from Melbourne, Sydney, and Canberra-based pharmacists.

B is for Baltimore Chop – A battled ball that hits the ground close to home plate and then bounces high in the air, allowing the batter to reach safely. Or what protestors do to police cars in the Charm City.

C is for a Cuban Sandwich – A confidence-boosting batting-practice pitch thrown by slugger-turned hitting instructor Tony Oliva. Also the top-selling menu item at Marlin’s Park.

D is for Death Valley – A particularly deep outfield area in a given ballpark. Ironically, Coors Field in Denver boasts MLB’s largest outfield while being the stadium sitting the highest above sea level.

E is for Elysian Fields – A popular recreation spot in Hoboken, N.J. and the site of the first baseball match games in 1845. The name is derived from Greek mythology for “Elysion,” the name of the Isles of the Blessed and came to mean paradise, or any state of perfect happiness. And isn’t that what every baseball stadium is?

F is for – Finnish Baseball – A jacked-up version of baseball where the bases are arranged in a Z-shape fashion and the basepaths get progressively longer. The rest of the differences are too crazy to describe. Seriously, Finland? Stick to hockey and saunas would you please?

G is for German Ball Game – Another crazy European version of baseball from the late 1800s. Over the years dozens of major leaguers have been born in Germany including current stars Heinz McCutcheon, Fritz Harper, and Dutch Kershaw. 

H is for Hollywood Hop – A batted ball that takes an easy bounce into a fielder’s glove, which presumably makes him good enough for the movies. With 16 errors already, A’s shortstop Marcus Semien won’t be getting his SAG card anytime soon.

I is for Irish baseball – The style of baseball played by the 1890s Baltimore Orioles whose manager and more than half of the team were of Irish extraction. Some notable Irish ballplayers from that squad include Lefty O’Doul’s, Homer Baileys, and John McGuinness.

J is for Japanese Liner – A Texas Leaguer in the Pacific Coast League. Or two-thirds of Ichiro Suzuki’s 2,873 hits.

K is for Kentucky Wonder – A pitch thrown close to the batter. Hitters such as Giancarlo Stanton and Jason Heyward are currently wearing protective face guards thanks to bean balls that knocked them all the way to Paducah.

L is for Louisiana – A fastball. Louisiana is known for its bayous and fastballs have been labeled “Linda Ronstadts”, thanks to her 1977 hit single, “Blew By You”.  

M is for Massachusetts Game – Another early variation of baseball that was popular in Boston in the 1800s. Though not officially cursed, the game was so lame that the top Boston team went 86 years without winning a championship.

N is for Nine Miles – a dugout exaggeration for the distance traveled by a long ball. Or every homer hit by Marlin’s slugger Stanton.

O is for Oregon Boot – The figurative shoe of a slow runner. In Oregon penitentiaries they use a ball-and-chain type appliance with this moniker. Also the name given to Price Fielder’s cleats by his Rangers teammates.

P is for Pittsburgh Chopper – a batted ball that bounces over a fielder’s head. All but two of the hits in the 1979 World Series were either Baltimore chops or Pittsburgh choppers.

Q is for Quarry – a rough infield. See my high school infield. The varsity baseball coach, Bob Newman, used to make the JV squad pick rocks out of the infield. Little did we know that he carted in wheelbarrows full of granite before the first snow.

R is for Route 66 – A winding course taken by an outfielder. I really needed the KC outfielders to hit Route 66 in the playoffs against the Angels last year.  

S is for Syracuse Car – A railroad car in which the rookies rode. These days the rookies make enough to buy all the cars in Syracuse.

T is for Texas Leaguer – a blooper that lands out of reach of both the infielders and the outfielders. Or what you call the Josh Hamilton trade between the Angels and the Rangers because it landed out of the grasp of everybody’s understanding.

U is for Uecker Seats – The highest nosebleed seats in a ballpark and a reference to Bob Uecker’s Miller Lite commercials. I’ve been in some stadiums where Stanton couldn’t reach the Uecker Seats with a Nine-miler.

V is for – Valahalla – The place where baseball greats go after death. A term of Norse mythology bolstered by the fact that Lou Gehrig was buried in a cemetery in Valhalla, NY. I’m praying there are no Trouts in the Valhalla phonebook any time soon.

W is for Williamsburg – The bullpen in right field of Fenway Park where Ted Williams launched many a home run. Also the resting place of Torii Hunter after David Ortiz blasted a grand slam to bury the Tigers in Game 2 of the 2013 ALCS.

Y is for You Can’t Walk Off of the Island – Advice given to Latin-born players from island countries (esp. the Dominican Republic) that, to attract the attention of scouts, they needed to show the ability to hit and not the patience to draw walks. Also what Ginger and Mary Ann shouted during the Over-the-Line games of Gilligan and the Skipper vs. the Professor and Mr. Howell.

Z is for Zone – A synonym for the strike zone. Also the dieting book distributed during spring training to all players wearing an Oregon Boot.