Thursday 13 August 2026
“Danny, no good” they sighed, glowering at me as I crayoned a drawing. Was my coloring “bad”?
Their condemnatory judgement was accompanied by a long, disappointed, even contemptuous glare.
Scared by their scowl, I didn’t understand what I had done to be reproached by them.
They repeatedly proclaimed, “no good,” adding “to Hell. To the Devil…. Danny, no good.” I’m going to Hell? Why?
Each time they pronounced the phrase, I felt cursed. I wasn’t just a “lost cause” or “hopeless case;” I was something worse.
I was five years old. I remember the day; it was a Saturday when I heard it for the first time. And I heard the “no good” reprimand often. The experiences never faded away.
I was too young to understand what was “no good” about being left-handed. No explanation (or apology on behalf of my Maligner) from sympathetic loved ones relieved my very real fear. I don’t remember what my mother said, trying to ease my worry; whatever consolation I heard didn’t buffer my terror.
I could’ve done allot worse than write with the “wrong hand.”
When I grew older, I understood. I supposedly was damned, predestined for Hell because:
31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’
44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’
45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’
46 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” (Matthew 25:31-46)
Although I attended Catholic school during the tail-end of the era when nuns and brothers did hit students for bad behavior, the nuns didn’t beat me for writing left-handed. Thank God!
Like many young kids from the 1970s, I saw the television commercial advertising the hard rock band, KISS’ 1979 Dynasty Tour. I was drawn in by their looks and sounds. I don’t remember which album my father first bought for me: KISS Alive II (record) or Double Platinum (eight-track tape), but soon after I had the KISS group poster in my room and the Gene Simmons doll. I was Peter Criss, “The Catman,” for Halloween, too.
Do you already know where I’m going with this?
The bassist and co-lead singer, Gene Simmons.
He was “The Demon” with black and white face paint (black lips, large painted black bat wings masking his eyes, and an extended black hair line). Not only wearing a black costume accoutered with bat wings and dragon platform boots, but he also spit both fire and “blood.” He would roll back his eyes and stick out his long tongue. His Christian fundamentalist detractors insisted that “KISS” was an acronym for “Knights In Satan’s Service.”
Gene Simmons isn’t left-handed, but I was—and I listened to his “Devil music.” As I became a teenager. I listened to more heavy metal. Add in Ozzy Osbourne (biting off the heads of bats and birds and looking possessed), supposed backward messages on hard rock and heavy metal records, and other stereotypes of this music, my Maligner more so declared, “Danny, no good.” Being left-handed AND a heavy metal fan convinced them I was already damned.
Among others, Leonardo da Vinci, Marie Curie, Buzz Aldrin were left-handed. I doubt whether my Maligner would have been persuaded being left-handed wasn’t wicked. They wouldn’t have been impressed by such talented and upstanding individuals. Given my Maligner’s Polish background, I also don’t think that Marie Curie—to be precise: Maria Salomea Skłodowska Curie…. She was Polish—would have convinced them either.
On 13 August 1976, Dean R. Campbell started celebrating International Lefthanders Day. I also feel that my Maligner would have been unpersuaded that society was beginning to recognize left-handed people; instead, I think they would be more skeptical and troubled by such a “sinister” celebration day.
Being left-handed always felt “right.” I know, I know… I couldn’t resist. To a certain extent and depending on the task, I’m ambidextrous. I need to concentrate while writing right-handed to be legible. When performing my cardio kickboxing, I can exercise in both stances.
On the one hand, blogging about my left-handedness feels like writing about breathing. It’s natural. It’s something I now don’t deeply think about. On the other hand, I do get excited about seeing other left-handers in classrooms, meeting areas, or even in movies. If scientific research is precise enough, approximately 10 percent of the world’s population is left-handed. I assume the number is higher than 10 percent. Many naturally left-handed people were beaten by their elders, forcing them to become “right-handed.” I argue that the statistical number is skewed.
I’m also not sure why I decided to compose this piece. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m not trying to “understand” my Maligner; I’m not absolving them. If I truly forgive, then I must forget. Clearly, I haven’t forgotten.
In my mind, I hear: “Those were different times” or “People were still superstitious and unworldly back then” to soften the emotional and social abuse I experienced for being left-handed.
In Omoo, Herman Melville wrote: “to be hated cordially, is only a left-handed compliment.” Melville still is teaching this greenhorn something new.