Magic

I am taking my wife to a magic show slash auction tomorrow night: black tie kind of affair. The performer is apparently a world class musician. While I do not know his name offhand, I have been told that he is the magician that trained David Copperfield in the art of illusion.

I've always enjoyed magic, but being a rather clumsy person, sleight of hand is certainly beyond me. When I was nine, my fourth grade teacher, Ms. Hunt, told my parents to buy me a typewriter. She gave me a book with typing lessons as well. I think she thought me so uncoordinated that only developing a manual skill of some sort would save me from a life of stumbling around the streets, like a bridge troll.

I actually did learn to type properly, as I recall. But by the time that I was next near a keyboard, in grade nine, I had lost all of my proper QWERTY skills. I had to relearn, and this time, there was no pressure to do it properly. Now, after years of programming computers, I can type at a very fast clip: probably about forty to sixty words a minute if I have to. But I do not use the proper QWERTY finger positions. I use all kinds of fingers all over the place, randomly bringing other fingers in as my wrist or hand gets uncomfortable. I am by no means a two fingered typist, but I would drive poor Ms. Hunt crazy I am afraid.

I am still a klutz, but I have a few manual dexterity skills. I can play the guitar, the mandolin, the banjo, the bass, and the organ. Even a spaz, you see, can learn to do a few things skilfully. But when I consider that I can trip on a plain wooden floor with ease, I am reconciled to the fact that becoming unspazlike is beyond any ability I can acquire.