Sunday, August 16, 2020

Why is the Glove you use on your dominant hand always the one that gets a hole in it?

This is the question I get asked as my boys come in from working outside.  I think they were building flower pots or benches or both.  It’s hot, it’s summer in the south, and I had a pressing matter to attend to inside so that’s where I stayed (except to walk the dog).  

How easy it is to go through work gloves, gardening gloves, winter gloves (we have all 4 seasons here), and plastic gloves?  I’ve had to use my share of plastic gloves (please don’t write to me about filling up the land fill, I’ve been eco conscious since before it became a political issue, my use of plastic gloves is for a medical reason (not my own)) lately so it seems we’re all using gloves.

I wear them in the winter.  I have to, I get cold.  I have several pairs.  

When the question, though, about the glove with the holes (a rather sturdy more expensive type of work glove and not from the $1 bin), I say that sounds like the title of a country western or cowboy song likening it to one of my favorite groups, Riders in the Sky.  (Try listening to them and not smiling, just sayin’.). The reply I get back is that it sounds like a poem title.  

Well, probably not for one of mine.  I have written a cowboy poem or two, but not many.  I tend to follow in Whitman’s footsteps and write exclusively in free verse.  I do enjoy writing social or eco poems (not nature, more along the be aware of the environment verse) and science fiction poems.  

I thought perhaps the quandary of the holes in the glove for the dominate hand seemed more suited to a blog post - well, this one, and not a poem.  It seemed to fit.

So many things don’t seem to fit these days, especially for me.  As much as I keep telling myself the only through is through, I don’t really believe it.  

As a result, planning, for me, has somewhat fallen through the holes in the glove.  And like this post, simply unplanned, maybe life, or at least my day, will be all the better for it.







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