Monday, September 26, 2011

Turquoise Stretchy Glove

Have you seen this glove?


No?  I guess I'm not surprised since it's been missing since 1990.

It's really quite sad because the glove had a matching ear band and went with a very flattering magenta coat that I was wearing around town that winter. 

About a week after losing it, my Mom ran across an ad in the newspaper that said FOUND: turquoise glove and listed an address where you could inquire about it.

My hopes soared!  Someone had found my glove and, realizing its impeccable style and quality, was nice enough pay for a newspaper advertisement to locate the glove's distraught owner--a Glove Samaritan of sorts.  So, with my little sister in tow, I set out for the address. (It is a testament to the type of town where I grew up that my parents didn't have to be afraid that this was all a scheme to abduct children by luring them in through the most common type of glove in the year's most popular color.)

When we knocked on the door, we were greeted by a woman peering suspiciously at us through a crack in the door.   

"Um, hi, we're here, um, about the glove," I suddenly felt unprepared for this task.  The way she was glaring at us made me wonder if there weren't some secret code word I was supposed to be referencing.

She opened the door a little further.  "Yes?"

Clearly, she wasn't going to make this easy.  "I think the glove might be mine," I replied.

"What did your glove look like?"  Now, even at eleven I knew this was a ridiculous question.  First of all, the gloves were probably bought for a dollar at Hills, so it wasn't like I was trying to claim some expensive treasure.  Second, what use would anyone have for a single glove unless they had the match for it?  So, I gave the best answer that I could think of.

"Um, turquoise.....?"

The answer didn't seem to please her, but she went and got the glove anyway.

It wasn't mine.  Actually, it looked something like this:


Except, of course, there was only one of them.  It was a pretty nice glove, so I hoped that it's owner read the newspaper so he or she could come claim it.  And, the lady seemed almost glad that it didn't turn out to be mine.

So, the Glove Samaritan did not turn out to be like I hoped.  Instead of being a nice person who hated the sight of unmatched gloves lying sadly in the street, she was suspicious and weird, which led me to wonder:  Who does that?  Who pays for an add about a found glove and then isn't even sympathetic to the people with one cold hand who come to ask about it?

But, I saw the glove lady many more times over the years, and with every encounter the answer became more and more obvious.  A crazy person, that's who.

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