The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: HANDS
For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?
In January I wrote about: apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.
In February: chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.March: divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.
April: I took a break to focus on ARTSPEAK: Happy!
Here are the prompts for May: gloves, great-grandparent, guidebook, gun, gym class, hair, hands, hat, high heels, honeymoon, hood.
HANDS
So I've written about my own (piano) hands in CAN I TOUCH YOUR HAIR? I inherited my mother's hands – wide, capable hands with prominent veins.
Interestingly, I heard Henry Winkler on a podcast recently say that this is considered good fortune in some cultures. Who knew? I do recall receiving a compliment once specifically about my hands – a stranger asked if I was a “hand” model. (!) That was quite a few years ago, but it still makes me smile.
One memory I haven't documented is about a scar on my left hand. It's a round white scar, about an inch below my pointer finger's knuckle. When asked about this scar I have been known to say, “it's from a cigarette burn.” That's exactly how big it is! And doesn't that sound like an interesting (horrible) story? This is the curse of being a storyteller, I think... we can imagine so many more entertaining stories about ourselves that it's hard sometimes to settle for the truth – which is that in college I had a wart pop up in that spot, and the scar is the result of having it removed.
lefty!Another “hands” note: I'm left-handed, and I have always loved that about myself! It's a big part of my identity – proof that I really am an artsy, creative whose default is right-brained thinking/problem-solving.
Yes, there are frustrations: smearing ink as I grip the pen with pointer finger and thumb, leaving the rest of my fingers drag behind like a snail's shell... and how the ink will stain my skin, making me look like I forgot to wash. Most desks, scissors, instruments, etc. are not made for lefties. When dining with friends or family, I must always choose a seat on the outside of a table, so that I'm not bumping elbows with my tablemate. But these are all just part of the lefty experience. I wouldn't trade them for anything.
And here is a memoir- poem about being right brained and left handed:
The Left-Handed Way of Learning the States
When Mrs. Fattig sayswe must memorize the names of all the states,I start with orange Florida,and journey up the east coastbefore heading westto pink California.I add blue Hawaii and white Alaska last.
When I'm donewith my recitation,I've only named 48 states.Should've done italphabetically,my best friend Barbie says.
But why would I want to spend so much time memorizing a boring listwhen my heart clackety-clacksto trace green mountains and aquamarine lakes as I cruise acrossthe map's brown state lines?
- Irene Latham
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?
In January I wrote about: apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.In February: chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.March: divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.
April: I took a break to focus on ARTSPEAK: Happy!
Here are the prompts for May: gloves, great-grandparent, guidebook, gun, gym class, hair, hands, hat, high heels, honeymoon, hood.
HANDS
So I've written about my own (piano) hands in CAN I TOUCH YOUR HAIR? I inherited my mother's hands – wide, capable hands with prominent veins.
Interestingly, I heard Henry Winkler on a podcast recently say that this is considered good fortune in some cultures. Who knew? I do recall receiving a compliment once specifically about my hands – a stranger asked if I was a “hand” model. (!) That was quite a few years ago, but it still makes me smile.
One memory I haven't documented is about a scar on my left hand. It's a round white scar, about an inch below my pointer finger's knuckle. When asked about this scar I have been known to say, “it's from a cigarette burn.” That's exactly how big it is! And doesn't that sound like an interesting (horrible) story? This is the curse of being a storyteller, I think... we can imagine so many more entertaining stories about ourselves that it's hard sometimes to settle for the truth – which is that in college I had a wart pop up in that spot, and the scar is the result of having it removed.
lefty!Another “hands” note: I'm left-handed, and I have always loved that about myself! It's a big part of my identity – proof that I really am an artsy, creative whose default is right-brained thinking/problem-solving. Yes, there are frustrations: smearing ink as I grip the pen with pointer finger and thumb, leaving the rest of my fingers drag behind like a snail's shell... and how the ink will stain my skin, making me look like I forgot to wash. Most desks, scissors, instruments, etc. are not made for lefties. When dining with friends or family, I must always choose a seat on the outside of a table, so that I'm not bumping elbows with my tablemate. But these are all just part of the lefty experience. I wouldn't trade them for anything.
And here is a memoir- poem about being right brained and left handed:
The Left-Handed Way of Learning the States
When Mrs. Fattig sayswe must memorize the names of all the states,I start with orange Florida,and journey up the east coastbefore heading westto pink California.I add blue Hawaii and white Alaska last.
When I'm donewith my recitation,I've only named 48 states.Should've done italphabetically,my best friend Barbie says.
But why would I want to spend so much time memorizing a boring listwhen my heart clackety-clacksto trace green mountains and aquamarine lakes as I cruise acrossthe map's brown state lines?
- Irene Latham
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