I grew up in the small village of Maryfield, Saskatchewan. Like many Canadians, I was first introduced to curling at a very young age. My parents curled so I was 
always at the rink watching them play. My experience with curling began as a part of our class trips to the Mayfield Curling Club. Our entire school would be there, and I remember the teachers set us all up in what’s called a JamCan Bonspiel – where smaller rocks are used, and teams throw from half way down the curling sheet. It was love at first throw.
When I got a bit older, and we were playing the full game – around grade 4 – I remember one curling practice that stands out in my memory. My team’s regular Coach wasn’t able to attend that night, and one of the other girls’ dad stepped up to be our Coach. What made the evening extra special, was that our substitute Coach brought a pair of real curling shoes for us to share and try; I was elated.
Real curling gear was a whole new level-up from the duct-taped shoe or slip-on plastic slider that I had been using. I was so excited to try these real curling shoes, that as soon as it was my turn to wear them, I hurriedly laced up, grabbed my stone and pushed out of the hack. I took 2 or 3 shots before one of my teammates noticed something was wrong.
“What’s with your shots, Val?” One of my teammates astutely questioned, “Aren’t you left-handed?”
I simply looked at her and smiled.
The fact was and still is that I am left-handed. The shoes we were trying were 100% designed for a right-handed player. This less-than-ideal-for-me design hadn’t been something I missed, but I was simply not going to give up a chance to try these real shoes. So, I had quietly switched both the hand I held the stone and my stance in the hack and threw with my non-dominant hand.
Yes, wearing the slider on the wrong foot, and trying to throw right-handed meant my shots had been all over the place, but imagining myself as a player with all the gear (even for a moment) allowed my passion for curling to grow in a unique way that day. It’s a memory that I think back to from time to time. Recognizing how far I’ve come, and yet how, so often, it’s those innocent moments and seemingly simple acts of generosity that light the fire for much grander things.
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