I was born left handed. I wrote left handed, I eat left handed, there are pictures of me as a child playing guitar left handed. My early teachers, as much as I loved them, had a problem with my southpaw approach to things, and decided that I really wanted to become a righty. I was perfectly happy being a lefty. I thought it made me stand out a little. My Mom had a guitar, and at one point I tried to turn the strings around left handed style. That was a mistake. The solution was, for me to learn to play guitar right handed. I started out playing drums left handed. Until 1980, when I got a drum kit where the rack tom on the set could only be set up on the left side of the kick drum. I then, had to re-learn how to play drums. That was actually the easiest transition, as my friends all had righty kits, I didnt want to get another ass beating like the one I got for changing Moms guitar strings around. Over time, all this reversal of synapsis had the circuits overloading in my brain. I spent a lot of time tripping over my own shadow. Sometimes my brain still tries to get my body to do something backwards. A lot of fills I play on a drum set, are played left handed. So if you see me play something, and a right handed player play something, itll look different, but sound the same (for the most part... think: sneakers in the dryer) In 1974, I was involved in a bicycle accident that nearly killed me. It resulted in irreparable nerve damage to my right hand. It was like I had to learn to write all over again. My handwriting has always been bad. I was told by the doctor to not plan on playing drums or guitar. So.. Again, Im relearning, everything. I did that, without much of the feeling in my right hand. It hasnt come back. Ive given up hope on its return. There are some things I still do left handed. I eat with my left hand, I bowl left handed. If we are intimate, perhaps youd find some of my best work done with my left hand. These are things that my teachers didnt have the time, patience nor the inclination to fix. Despite my strong desire at Campbell High School for Miss Kam to work on the last one in that list. I would have walked through fire for her. Well save that story for another day. So, as you might imagine.. This portly little kid, with the bum hand is probably not the best basketball I lack the coordination to do a lay up. I am a terrible baseball player in that I also have the eye/hand coordination of Mr Magoo. You will find me swinging for the fences, while the pitcher is still in set. I may be the only person in baseball to strike himself out in one pitch. I didnt get picked for gym. In 9th grade, my drumming was so bad, that I was allowed to play drums in class, but not at any performances. I had no idea until the last football game of the Campbell High season, that bands went to football games. They needed a drummer.. He resorted to me. Over time, I developed some stability as a righty with a left handed brain. I turned my lopsided drumming into the way I play drums. Ive played quite a few shows, Ive made my bones as both a drummer and a guitar player. I found myself working in fields, where my lack of eye/hand coordination is not such a huge set back. Ive actually become good at some things. What I havent done, and will likely *never* be able to do, is rest in the security that comes with being good enough to be on the team. You dont go from years of bench warming to the big leagues. Every day Im at work, I feel like I have to prove to someone/something that I belong, to justify my being in the room. A more rational person might say, Next month, you will be working at the same place for 19 years, dont you think they would have fired your ass if they didnt want it there?.. Falling off a log, is harder than getting fired in radio. As much logic as there is to support that Im a part of a team, band, table for 4 at Hibachi, I still hear the frustration in the voices of those who cant understand why I am so klutzy and slow. (Well also talk about my scholastic career as a special ed student, that lasted from the 3rd grade until my graduation some other time).. All of this (at times) has me feeling like damaged goods. Yesterday, I lamented that in an uncharacteristically short post, stating that I basically felt useless. I felt at that time, that I was incapable of meeting the same standard of work, as those of my colleagues, be them in my field of employment, or music..Or even as a man. I felt like a pair of shoes with two left feet. This wasnt a cry for help. This was my pounding my fist on the table in anger and frustration at myself. I learned how to do things better, I learned how to take the idiosyncrasies of a ham fisted approach to practically everything and turn it into the *way I do things*. The one thing I never learned to do, was turn down the voices of frustration from those who didnt understand that I had to teach myself even the most basic syntax, for holding a pencil, writing cursive, a G chord or throwing a ball. I was frustrated with myself. Much to my surprise, there were voices responding to me yesterday, with unwavering support. Some from people Ive known all my life, some people with whom I am now friends, (but at one time thought they hated me), even some who I just met this week. I wish I could articulate just how much your words of support and enouragement mean. Your words lifted my spirits. I felt bad for feeling bad. However, it is likely that I will feel like this again, since this is in my conditioning now. I have taken a lot of steps to change my way of thinking to a more positive direction. But sometimes, My brain processes that stuff backwards too.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 04:05:57 +0000
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