Glovely

I used to explore the theme of childhood with my Junior English classes.  In literature, it's very popular...also a winner.  Everybody has one.  Everybody loses one.  The stories are important and valuable.  Usually, when teaching the novel The Catcher in the Rye, I'd ask my students to bring in an object that represents their childhood.  I'd do the same.  This exercise came early on in the year and would work as an ice-breaker and help us all get to know one another better.  Of course, there was all manner of Barbie dolls, and model cars, airplanes, rocket ships, and superhero toys.  Some kids would bring books and others went conceptual, like the student who poured a container of water through the air into a container and said that water represented his childhood because he almost drowned.  One of the most memorable was the student who brought in some clothing from her native Iran and proceded to tell a story about how she and her mother escaped a repressive regime there and when they landed in a U.S. airport they changed their clothing and tossed the more traditional garb into the first trash can they saw.  Powerful stuff.  Lots of laughs and lots of tears all around.  But then, that's childhood.

I'd usually bring in my Little League baseball glove and tell the story of how I grew up a Giants fan in L.A. and wanted a Willie Mays glove.  My father took me to the biggest sporting goods stores in the city and we found one!  I'm convinced that glove helped me make a few plays just like my idol.
I was thinking about that glove the other day when I recalled the story of another glove.  Like my signature model, it was made by the MacGregor company.  Only this other glove, which belonged to a neighbor kid  I regularly played baseball with, was even more special.

My friend's glove was solid black and came to him suddenly and accidentally.  He was riding along with his father in Hollywood, Ca one afternoon.  His dad worked at Technicolor and he often went in with him on Saturdays to gather scraps of film left on the cutting room floor.  He'd bring home small rolls of discarded film with scenes from such classic movies as "The Robe" and "Sparticus."  Bigg stuff for 10-year-olds.  Anyway, as they were riding along they noticed a large bus in front of them.  Just about the time they noticed the logo of the Hollywood Stars baseball team on the bus, a glove fell from an open window!  A beautiful, all black, MacGreggor glove.  Stopping the car, my neighbor fetched up the glove, but the team bus was long gone.  I think they made an attempt to re-unite the glove with its owner, but that never happened.  That glove played its remaining days in my neighborhood and at our local Little League field.  We all knew it was special.  Even though the Stars were a minor league team (Part of the Pacific Coast League) they were a farm team of the Pittsburg Pirates.  That glove belonged to a real baseball player.  We all took turns wearing that glove when its new owner allowed.  It'll never replace the feeling and pride of my Willie Mays glove but as neighborhood legends go, the black MacGreggor is one of the better ones.