We got hit with another winter storm last night. It dumped more snow, and now the temperature is plummeting and is supposed to get down to 10 degrees below zero. That’s serious bundle-up weather!
The sun figure on the door to our backyard seems to be enjoying it, at least.
I last noticed my pair of black gloves when I removed them at the Denver airport and shoved them into a pocket of my raincoat without a second thought. I’m pretty sure they were still in the pocket when I balled up the coat and crammed it into the overhead bin, on top of my suitcase, for the flight from Denver to Columbus.
But at some point, perhaps when I hurriedly extricated my coat from the overhead bin, grabbed my suitcase, and rushed off the plane carrying my balled up coat so as not to unduly inconvenience my fellow passengers, or when I dumped the coat and my bags onto one of those lines of rental luggage carts so I could put my coat on, or when I grabbed my suitcase and over-the-shoulder bag and moved out onto the sidewalk to meet Kish who was giving a ride, the gloves fell out of the pocket. I didn’t notice they were gone until I got to the office, hung up my coat, and then retrieved it to head out to lunch. When I reached into my pocket to don they gloves, they were gone. I hoped they had fallen out in the car, but Kish checked and — alas! — they were not to be found.
Somewhere, someone noticed a pair of orphaned black gloves, perhaps in the aisle of the plane, or next to the luggage cart rack. Wherever they are, I hope they were found as a pair and either taken for use by the finder, or donated to some charitable entity like Goodwill where they can be sold and used again for their intended purpose. They were unremarkable in appearance, fake leather black gloves with a cotton lining with a paint smudge on one finger, but they were good, business-like gloves that were ideal for wearing on the walk to work. They had served me well for about 20 years, and I’m confident they would want to continue to shield human fingers and palms from the cold.
Now, I’m down to one pair of gloves — a pair of very poofy, ultra-warm brown nylon gloves with the Cleveland Browns logo on them. Russell left them behind, and they are perfect for walks around Schiller Park on cold winter mornings, but they don’t exactly project a professional appearance. So, I’m going to have to buy some new gloves — which means I need to confront a question I haven’t had to answer in decades: where do you go to buy men’s gloves these days?
Webner House 