Thursday, September 22

one arm boy

OK, I have big news. In fact, this may be the biggest news I'll ever have, so I hope you are in a position to appreciate it fully. Turn off the television and turn the stove down to simmer, folks, cause this is BIG...

I've found my doppelgänger. Or, rather, he found me. Just over a week ago, I received an email from a guy with one small arm just like mine! Note: I do not use exclamation notation lightly.

Yep, OneArmBoy. Not only was he born with a small left arm with three fingers just like me, he was born in the same year, in the same month...no, not on the same day. C'mon, that would be ridiculous.

People, I don't know what to do with myself, I'm so excited. I've spent the last week telling everyone that I met a guy just like me. Mostly, I've gotten, "Oh, really, that's cool..." But my friend Kristen said, "I WANT TO MEET HIM...and then cut off his arm so there is only one [of you]." She's very loyal. 

OneArmBoy was born in Holland...or the Netherlands...I'm still not sure what the difference is. I do now know, after inspecting various maps of Europe, that Holland is nestled right up against Germany. He's Dutch; I'm Deutsch--it's not exactly unlikely that we are actually related--Maybe twins separated at birth. Except my people left Europe some time ago. And I can't say why a person would ever wear wooden shoes. There goes that theory.

Thankfully, in Holland, you learn English in school, because this would be a much different post if OneArmBoy had written to me in Dutch. He was a bit shy to get in touch anyway....probably because he was afraid something like this would happen--I would write about him. I'm lucky he's given me permission to do so. I swore by my other arm that I would not publish any pictures, and just in case he is the only guy in Holland with his name, that shall also remain under wraps.

I can tell you he has an understated smile that hints at both a sensitive spirit and a keen sense of humor; he knows his way around computers; and when kids ask what happened to his arm, he says, "I left it at home, I thought one was quite enough for today."

And yes, ladies, he is available...for now...

If anyone is more excited than me, it's Finneas, because now he has a pen pal, though it's more of a Cyrano De Bergerac situation since Finneas can't type. OneArmBoy's smaller appendage did not have a name. Strange, I know. But now, thanks to his making my acquaintance, Dr. Claw has a name. He also has his PhD, apparently. Of course, who am I to assume Dr. Claw is masculine.

I'm only a little glum because I wish I could hang out with OneArmBoy. You know, so we could both feel more average for a change. I've imagined it. Of course, we might just become a bigger freak show; we might draw a crowd. A small following, if you will.

More than likely, we'd just stare at each other, neither of us used to seeing someone like us. Watching home video of myself is strange enough.

But after we're finished staring, we could hold right hands and spin in a circle or have a tug-of-war with our small left arms. We could race my Mazda and his Kia, using only our knees to steer our respective vehicles. We could set up double blind dates with people who didn't know about our one-armedness and then never mention it on the date either. We could pose for a photo with a pitchfork...

Art-show-goer: "Well, it looks like American Gothic, but something's not right."

The possibilities are endless.

We're in the process of forming a club. Membership would be limited, of course. Though OneArmBoy says we shouldn't discriminate. Spoilsport.  

Like me, OneArmBoy does not know what caused him to be born with one small arm. After some research, it was decided we may have what is called Poland's Syndrome, but there are some inconsistencies. For example, people born with Poland's most often have a small right arm. And they are mostly boys. I read an estimate that only one in between 10,000 and 100,000 babies are born with Poland's Syndrome. Apparently, people with tiny arms come in small waves.

The equation that deduces the probability of our meeting is probably enough to make a mathematician's head explode.

You're just not gonna run across one of us every day, thus ensuring my job security...ahem, our job security. Unfortunately we've still got nothing on Nick Vujicic. But that's not gonna ruin my party.

OneArmBoy, it's very very nice to meet you.

OneArmGirl