16 PUNCHMAGAZINE.COM {sloane citron} for things with the “wrong” arm. Historically, being lefthanded came with challenges, but there’s also a belief that lefties are more creative and verbally inclined. As I watch how handedness has flowed through my family, I see my father’s genes at work. I hadn’t given it much thought until, suddenly, three of my grandchildren were holding their, not Scotch, but juice boxes, in their left hands. Two are clearly left-handed, and one is entirely ambidextrous. Three out of seven so far, with two infants still too young to show a preference. Roughly 40 percent. When I’m with these children—which is often—I feel a quiet joy watching their lefthandedness. Early on, I came to believe that one of my most important jobs in this world was to build a large family and carry my heritage forward from my parents to my grandchildren. Seeing these kids confidently use their left hands—including one five-year-old who insists on pink, left-handed golf clubs—and knowing I was the conduit for these genes, passed down from a man who narrowly escaped the Holocaust to these thriving children of today, I know I’ve done my job. I miss my father. As he aged, we grew close, and I cherished the love and care we shared toward the end of his life. One of the loveliest parts of my days now is watching my left-handed grandkids—Evan with the curly hair, Mayer in the middle—being left-handed. When little Mara Citron, age five, swings her left-handed pink driver, I cannot unsee my father—only her swing is a bit better. I can still see old Ralph Citron, settled deep in his large armchair, the oblong wooden coffee table to his left. The television hums in the background as Art Fleming asks the Jeopardy! questions, and my animated father hurriedly blurts out the answers. In his left hand, he holds a Scotch, part water, with several ice cubes clinking together as he shakes the glass, inadvertently punctuating his race against the contestants. My father was, at once, a wonderful and deeply caring orthopedic surgeon—and a rather cold, sometimes frightening parent to his children. He had a brilliant mind, but his own personal history left him emotionally challenged. One of the initial things you might notice about my father had you met him was that he was left-handed. The first time I realized my dad was different was when I began playing golf with him. Though some lefthanders play golf right-handed, many choose to play the hand— literally—dealt to them, using left-handed clubs. Though he was no teacher, it helped me to stand across from him and try to emulate his awkward swing. I am no geneticist, but I have come to believe deeply in the power of our genes to shape who we are—whether it’s the timbre of our voice, the structure of our heart or whether we favor our right or left hand. It is no accident that Christian McCaffrey, our local football legend, became our local football legend. Of course, he worked enormously hard, but as the son of former Stanford and NFL wide receiver Ed McCaffrey and former Stanford soccer player Lisa McCaffrey, his genes gave him a solid head start. Many scientists argue that there is no genetic link to handedness. I suspect they’re wrong. About 10 percent of the population is left-handed. Among my siblings, my sister Shelley received that particular trait—a 33 percent incidence in our family. I’m not left-handed, but I must carry the gene, one that seems to choose unpredictably when and where it will appear. One of the interesting parts of having a family of four children and nine grandchildren (so far) is watching our genes at work. Thirteen living experiments, really, with plenty of other DNA thrown into the mix. It’s fascinating to see how the traits of parents and grandparents weave their way through generations. Take eye color. My dad, my brother, and I all have blue eyes, yet only my oldest son, Josh, inherited them. But with the addition of my children’s spouses, four of the grandchildren now have light or blue eyes—nearly half. Hair tells another story. At least four grandchildren appear to have inherited my wild, curly hair. That number may grow, since my own hair was straight until puberty. Then, at age 15, it suddenly exploded into curls. So, I’m guessing we may end up with a majority of wildly haired grandkids. Of all inherited traits, though, the one I notice most—and the one that gives me the greatest pleasure—is left-handedness. People rarely comment on eye color or height, but they always notice a lefty. Left-handed people stand out as they reach leftover genes
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