A Winter Glove Day

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.