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August 11, 2008
Marjory, my fatherís mother, was born left-handed, but made right-handed. In those days, there was something supposedly sinister about being sinistral, and her mother and then her teachers actually tied the offending hand behind her back, forcing her to learn to write with her right hand. Her handwriting was, not surprisingly, atrocious. When she started work at Lloyds, she wanted with all her heart to write in the ledger. A colleague gave her lessons at lunch time and after work. She practiced and practiced until her writing was good enough for the ledger. It was beautiful, like flowers. Like her.