LEFTIES: LOOKING AT THE WORLD BACKWARDS

There were over 2,500 deaths to left handed people in the US last year solely attributed to being left handed in a right handed world. All the things we righties do naturally has to be a learned reaction for the left hander. A left handed buddy of mine, Virgil DeBoer claims, "God made all people left handed, but only a few could handle it."

One reason I was so excited about the University of Illinois basketball team this season was because of the three big men all being left handed (as stated in a previous blog.) Does anything look better than a left handed swing in baseball? Can you even think of a great right hander's swing? Well, Mr. Pujols, but who else?

The same with pitching. A smooth left hander looks better than a smooth righty. Once in minor league baseball, a friend of mine Bill Glassman, claimed he could throw right or left, and occasionally someone will come along who can do that, though I'm afraid none have ever been very successful at it. Another friend of mine, Ferrell Wiman plays golf right handed until he putts and then he turns around. I've done that myself when my putting got bad. I played 18-holes recently putting left handed. I've also tried looking at the hole instead of the ball, cross-handed, the claw, the one-handed claw, an extermely open stance, lining up the ball with my back foot, even closing my non-dominant eye. All worked for a short time: none worked over the long haul. I'm still a lousy putter. But I probably looked better putting left handed.

The only thing they do that looks awkward to me is eat. My nephew Mark turns his left hand at an 80 degree angle, pointing his elbow up higher than his hand when he eats. I hate eating next to a lefty. I've seen some hold pencils that way, too. I remember the days when grade school teachers used to turn them around and make them write right handed.

I use my left hand a lot. Even shaving the left side of my face with my left hand. But I remember all the trouble I had starting a friend of mine's car when the ignition of his Mercury, I believe, was on the left side. And any teacher that turned a kid around should have to drive a car like that forever.

A WORD IS A WORD IS A WORD

I discovered this week another meaning for the word assorted. Oh, I came by this knowledge by accident. Some might argue focus.

Here goes. I was sent to the grocery store for all the necessities: lunch meat, bananas, potato chips, sodas, and as the note my wife had written--assorted cookies. These were for a fellowship for women from her BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) discussion group which was meeting at our house on Wednesday afternoon.

No problem. I found all the requirements plus a few other including supper. At least the main part: rotisserie barbecued chicken. I brought in the loot and was asked where the chocolate cookies were. You see, I'm Irish, along with a whole lot of other cultures. But Irish is the only one we celebrate and so I got green sprinkled, white iced sugar cookies, made especially for St. Patrick's Day. Of course, I love them, don't often get them, and knew there would be plenty of leftovers. For me, naturally. To supplement the assortment, I bought some Mother's Cookies--the taffy kind. But no chocolate. I don't like chocolate cookies that much, so why bother?

Wrong. My wife lectured me about women liking chocolate more than men and I should know that assorted not only included chocolate, but that's where it started. She proceeded to get out a cooking dish and made chocolate or yes, assorted brownies, complete with nuts.

As she predicted, the gals went for the chocolate assorted ones and left me the Irish cookies. By noon on Thursday there wasn't a non-assorted cookie left standing. A perfect ending to a perfect purchase. There were even some assorted ones left over for my perusal. ( I know perusal doesn't fit there, but if words can mean whatever we want them to, then it fits there.)

TIGER JACK TRAVER

My freshman rhetoric teacher prided himself on being called The Tiger. His classroom : the Tiger's Den, of course. What a great person.

He was frumpy in his appearance, always looked unshaven, but that's because he had such a thick beard. Kinda like an old Kurt Warner who could shave about half a dozen times a day.
He and his wife raised collies and from time to time; ok, daily, you could see evidence on his sportcoat. And collie hairs were not in vogue even in the 60's.

He looked and acted gruff, but he was a total teddy bear. He was good hearted and loved to help out his students. He was such an encourager and an enabler. But it was part of his plan to give self-confidence to his struggling students in rural southern Illinois. And when he complimented you in front of the whole class, it just gave you a feeling of strength. He was going to prepare his students for the next level of education. And if that was it, no more books after his class, then he was going to prepare you for life.

One of his favorite expressions was "x is different than x," that is, "Art is different than art," and when students would express that in their explanations,(i.e.,) the different levels of meaning in a word or expression, he might hop up on his desk and shout, "Eureka!"

He could find something good to say about the weakest of his students, although he was an intellectual whose plain of thought far exceeded ours. And he could relate to Thomas Hardy or the Hardy Boys, though he much preferred the former.

I hope you had a Tiger in your life. Even when I wasn't prepared for his class, I loved going into Tiger Jack's Den.

"WE HAD IT ALL," OR HOW TO GET A SONG OUT OF YOUR HEAD

It doesn't take much. For me to get a song in my head. And it can stay there for days. Especially bad or songs I can't stand. But even songs I really enjoy. I even sing them to myself as I'm trying to sleep. Or even sing them in my sleep.

They haunt my mind even when there is no impetus for them to appear. Granted, when a potato chip commercial uses "Everlasting Love" in their advertisement, then I might have that song racing through my brain for maybe thirty minutes or so. Or looking at a Bogey/Bacall picture from Key Largo can start the process. Re-singing a song from a church service is another avenue for song singing to occur for me.

But when there is no earthly reason for re-singing a particular song, then that is most disturbing. Today, I'm mind singing the Michael McDonald song that the gray haired guy on American Idol sang last night. In addition, a old time song, Since I Fell for You is invading my brain because I stopped to listen to a PBS Doo-Wop show and saw the ancient crooner. And who the heck were the Decastro Sisters? Man, those gals are ancient. And Loni Anderson was in the crowd listening to them. They should have been embarrassed. I was.

How to get rid of the unwanted lyrics and tunes? I don't know why, but when I run Eight Days a Week through my mind, it forces all the other stuff out. Try it next time that theme song from I Love Lucy bounces around in your noggin.

A CHEERLEADER HALL OF FAMER

If there is a Cheerleader Hall of Fame, then Kristi Yamaoka of SIU should be among that number. If you've heard her story, then it bears repeating and if you haven't, then read on.

With 3:25 left in SIU's win over Bradley in Sunday's MVC finals, Kristi fell from 15 feet performing a stunt with the SIU cheerleaders. She was strappeed to the board they use when neck and/or back injuries are suspected. Naturally, this takes some time as the emergency techs and parameds don't want to risk further injury by any movements.

But when the Saluki band played SIU's fight song, "Go Southern Go," Kristi could bear it no more. The sophomore from Springfield, Illinois, started moving her arms in perfect time to the music. "I could do the fight song as long as my arms were functioning." What a sight! And what a relief to those in attendance or watching on ESPN.

"I didn't want the team to get distracted. I needed them to win for me," she stated. They did. But our hearts went out to you. What a trooper!!

CONVENTION BOUND DELEGATE DISPLAYS REPUBLICAN BUMPER STICKER
LOCAL NEIGHBOR CHARGED IN PRANK

Well, that could have been the headline. If I had gotten caught. In 1964, I was 15 years old with the mind of, well a 15 year old. So when I heard that my next door neighbor was a delegate for the democratic convention that year, my mind went into overdrive.

She was a very nice lady. But she represented a challenge. I didn't like lbj at all. Later, I would like him and nixon less and less as the Viet Nam War wore on and on. I kinda liked Goldwater, but I didn't know much about him. A few slogans, "In your heart, you know he's right," answered by taunts of "In your guts, you know he's nuts." I also liked the AuH2O stickers. But the one I plastered on the driver's side rear bumper simply said Goldwater 64.

I had to wait until the night before she left to do my deed. Her car was parked in the street rather than in the back driveway, so I didn't have to climb a fence to "git her done." Late that night, armed with the bumper sticker, I squatted behind her blue sedan and pasted it on.

And that's the end of the story. I didn't see when she left. I know when she returned, it was without the sticker. Nothing was ever said about it. Whether a plan to find the culprit, hoping he would reveal the secret, or thinking that it happened on the way to the convention, I'll never know.

I know confession is good for the soul, but I'm not sure if it helps that it is written on a blog over 41 years later.

SALUKI BOWL

About one year after Johnny Rivers and Richard Pryor appeared at the SIU Homecoming Show in the Arena, I took a bowling class. It was held in the Student Union and was an easy credit for PE. Much easier than Physical Fitness with Wayne Arnold at Mt. Vernon Community College or golf at SIU, which I still believe was one of the hardest final exams I ever took.

The previous year the Salukis had pulled off a major upset and defeated nationally ranked Tulsa in the Homecoming football game. I don't remember who we played the following year, but the Homecoming Show that year was in our bowling class.

In an effort to garner more votes, a Homecoming Queen candidate in our class chose to wear a fashionable mini skirt. Not fashionable for bowling, unless she wanted to get out the vote. She didn't win. But she more than likely enjoyed a landslide victory among the young men in our class. Even if some bowling scores that day plummented.

YOU'RE TO CALL THE SECRET SERVICE

In the Fall of 1980, I was the public address announcer for the M. Vernon Rams. A job I held for another 17 seasons in football, 10 in basketball and 5 or 6 in baseball.

The note was sent from the school library where I went to return the call. I told them my name and heard one guy yell to the other, telling him I was on the line. His response, "who the hell is that?"

"I'm the football announcer," I replied before he could ask. He relayed my information.

"Oh, yeah, I need to talk to him."

You see it was the waning days before the election which would inaugurate Ronald Reagan as the 40th President. Roselyn Carter was in town for a fund raiser and would be introduced by me at halftime of the football game. I was given a brief script to read and to pronounce her name correctly. Roselyn, not Rosalyn, I believe. Although I varied from the written script, I did pronounce her name as I was told.

Although I wouldn't vote for her husband, I thought him to be a kind man, a Christian who taught Sunday School in Plains, GA. A man who was in a little over his head as President of the biggest super power in the world. And a man who couldn't pronounce nuclear. Not like George W. who calls it nucular, but nukeyur. My six year old son at the time would crack up when he heard him pronounce it. Yet I was the one getting lectured on elocution.

Oh well, it was the only time I ever got to introduce a first lady. And I hope the only time the Secret Service needs to talk to me.