Now that I've left my 70's I've made the decision to pitch what can be called junk. I mean, why should Her Majesty be burdened with hauling my garbage to the curb after I'm gone. Actually, there have been quite a bit of shoes, shirts, suits, etc. that have already found their way to Goodwill. But, I've also saved items that have a special meaning.
I'd wager some of you would look at what can be described above as prehistoric baseball gloves. For me they gave me some of the best memories of my eighty years on planet earth. The fielders mitt, the one with fingers was Nellie Fox model and given to me at age 6. Today, I have a special memory of the glove so much so that I slept with it all-night-long. By the age of 9 I dreamt of being a catcher and the dream became reality with my Rawlings Del Rice model glove. My last game using a catchers mitt, not this one, was when I turned 25.
The true test of a person's love of the game is this. Take a glove then pour softening oil in the glove pocket and rub it all over. Then, and this is most important, stick your nose in it and take a whiff. The memories will come flooding back and you'll magically become a kid again. You've vividly recall special moments in games you played. Trust me on this. It works.
I will never, ever put my gloves in the garbage. The Queen promised she'd put them in my casket so I can play ball for eternity and I believe her, maybe.
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