For those of us in the North Woods, winter gloves are an
important accoutrement to our normal winter garb. And since winter usually lasts
much of the year, such things as ‘favorite gloves’ are not to be taken lightly.
As you will see from the following, today was an important day for us
who are devoted to our winter gloves.
Although today was like any other day, it was auspicious in
that I was first to arrive at the morning coffee klatch, so I chose the prime
location to deposit my coat, hat, and winter gloves – right in front of the
stove. The host, Jer,(as in Jerry, not jerk), always has his winter gloves laid
out on the wooden bench in front of his stove. I managed to snuggle my hat with
my gloves tucked inside, on the tiny place remaining on the bench, so that I
would have warm gloves for my walk home. As the other men came in one-by-one to
guzzle their free java and work on Jer’s puzzle, they each followed the routine
of randomly tossing their winter duds on Jer’s sofa and armchair several feet
distant from the stove. I sort of chuckled quietly as I savored the thought of
my warm gloves.
The last to arrive this morning was Jimbo. My chair was
facing the door so I watched as Jimbo entered and made straight for the sofa
ignoring the bench full of gloves. He bent over the pile of assorted clothing
and seemed to be sorting through the hats and gloves as if he were searching
for something. I turned to my coffee but nearly choked on my steaming brew when
Jimbo suddenly shouted.
“AHH-HA, there it is!” With that and a sort of, I got ya, grin, Jimbo came to the coffee
table holding a black leather glove. “So who thinks they own this glove?” he
asked the table of freeloaders as we each savored our free coffee.
The Professor spoke up first. “That’s my glove” This was
followed by a lengthy pause “at least I think it is,” he concluded.
“You stole my glove.” Jimbo said with finality.
Never one to back down, the Professor said, “If that is your
glove, we must have the same color, style and fit because that glove is just
like the other one I own.” The Professor sat back, enjoying the moment of his
superior logic.
Now Jimbo is nothing if not a precise inspector of used
clothes given his regular visits to St Vincent De Paul’s emporium. He pointed
to one of the fingers of the suspect glove. “Just a minute, I have proof. See,
there is the repair I made on my glove where it was wearing through.”
Jimbo looked around the table for a challenge to his retort.
It was quiet for only a moment until the Professor began a rapid series of
maneuvers about how gloves are so similar and why yes, he did find that glove
on Jer’s floor some days ago, but since the mate to his glove was missing, he
assumed it belonged to him. The matter came to a fairly certain conclusion when
the Professor finally allowed as how he had found another similar glove in his
driveway some several days earlier. The clear consensus of Jer, Sherm, Big Bob,
and me was that Jimbo had won. He triumphantly shoved the glove in his pocket
and sat down after showing the winner’s obligatory grace, “it is amazing how
these gloves look alike.”
We all went back to guzzling our coffee when I suddenly
realized that the glove in question looked exactly like the winter glove I had
worn this morning! I hoped mine was still safely tucked inside my hat. Sure
enough, when I left some time later my black leather glove was snugly in place.
I looked it over carefully just to be sure. And there, to my surprise was a
worn spot and a loose seam on the thumb. My favorite glove, ruined. I debated the
notion of asking Jimbo to do a repair job. Nahhh.
Later that day my bride said one of her gloves was missing.
We found it on the street on our way home, wet, dirty and impressed with tire
tracks where more than one car had passed over it. This second example of a
missing glove and my finding that my favorite glove was blemished wasn’t a
surprise to me. This seemed to be a day all about winter gloves. Oh my.
