Cowboy Corner: The Glove

It was the spring of 1974. Dad had gone into the city to sell the eggs at the big farmer’s auction and when he got back I was to help unpack the truck and sort out the empty crates for the next run.

I was in the house watching TV when I heard the old truck coming up the lane. I threw on my cap and quickly put on a pair of rubber boots and headed out to do my chores.

“How was it today, Dad?”, I asked.

“Pretty good this time, pretty good”, was my father’s reply.

As I pulled down the rusty tailgate Dad said to me, “Here, better put this away first!”, tossing me a large paper bag he had stashed behind the seat. Curious, I opened the bag and as I peered inside I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was a brand new baseball glove! I looked at Dad with wide eyes and I was utterly speechless! 

“Well, you didn’t think I was going to let my favorite boy start baseball season with the worn-out old thing you’ve been using, did you?!”

“Wow!! It’s beautiful! Can I go show my friend Gary?”, I asked.

“Sure, you go ahead. I’ll finish unloading the truck. Just make sure to be home by suppertime, that’s all”, he said.

I cut across the back field and started out on the mile and a half trek to Gary’s place. I had my new ball glove on the whole time, kneading it and loosening it up, dreaming of all the great catches I would surely make. I can still remember the new stitching and the smell of fresh leather as I happily made my way around the last bend near my friend’s house. 

As I came up the path, there was Gary sitting on the front steps. But something was wrong. He had his head down and he looked really sad.

“Hey Gary! Check out my new glove!”, I said. “My Dad got it for me in town!”.

I went to hand it to him and suddenly he burst into tears. “I’m sorry Conrad. I’m pretty upset today. You see, ever since my Dad died in that accident last year Mum and us kids have been having a really hard time. Now the bank is taking our farm away and we have to move to the city and put Grandma in a home”.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

I had come all this way to show my best pal my cool new glove and all he could do was go on and on about his own selfish, stupid problems. Some friend he turned out to be.

I guess I learned a pretty good lesson that day.

I never spoke with Gary again. The bank eventually took over their farm and sold it to these two ladies from Winnipeg and they turned the place into one of those disco BDSM sex dungeons that were big in the seventies. They asked me if I wanted in on the action but I’m way too delicate for that type of activity so after a brief discussion I began renting the barn from them and started a business that manufactured illegal fireworks that utilized gunpowder I had obtained from cutting the ends off of stolen shotgun shells. Business was booming until one morning a powerful explosion revealed the existence of the factory to law enforcement and the public, so I decided to flee to the big city and lay low for a bit. On the way I was kidnapped by a really procrastinating serial killer. Every night before bed he would say, “Well, thanks for the company….I was planning to murder you tonight, but I had a really busy day and I’m just too tired and my back is kind of sore. I promise to kill you first thing in the morning”. This lasted about four weeks until I became bored and eventually wandered away. I ended up passing by a pawn shop where I bought an old guitar for twelve dollars and that’s when I wrote my first multi platinum hit, but that’s another story….