This past week I've really been missing my Dad, Fast Freddy, who passed away earlier this fall. He was 93 and ready for his reward. Those of us left behind when our loved ones die, never are quite ready for them to go. I was reminded of him as Ol’ Dutch was on the hunt for some new leather gloves for use on the farm. I like to use deerskin gloves as they seem to outlast good old cowhide ten to one. And when I am working on barbed wire fences, leather is the material of choice to avoid getting poked. 

Now you would think it would be a simple task to go to the local farm store and get a pair of new gloves. When I did just that, though, none of them fit these big ole paws. I jammed and I wiggled but no amount of finagling could get a pair on my hands. I can recall wearing XL size gloves and being able to fit a cotton liner in them earlier in my life. Now, I can barely squeeze on a pair of 2XL. I really wonder what is going on. I do think my poor old hands are swollen quite a bit from working on the house and maybe a tad from the extra tonnage I am carrying around my middle, but I am not sure that's all the reason for it. 

Ol’ Dutch got to thinking – a dangerous proposition according to Miss Trixie – that my shoe size has also changed through the years. I can vividly recall wearing a size 10½ shoe in high school and now need a 12. My feet aren't the only thing to change. My waist size has changed dramatically since my early days, too. Miss Trixie says that's a result of not being able to keep my mouth shut, except to swallow. I would tell her that's like the pot calling the kettle black but I need some sleep tonight and want to be able to close my eyes without fear of her attacking me. 

Scientists say that a person's ears never quit growing which is why old people look like Dumbo flying around the circus when they get elderly. And as bad as that sounds, it's still true. 

So maybe my hands have grown more, too. I can recall my Dad having large hands and he always wore the big old cloth gloves with huge fingers. You know the kind. Cheap. And that was Freddy for sure. They reminded me of the old baseball mitts from the 1930’s that had sausage size fingers and didn't even fold up to catch the ball. 

When I first started to play baseball in my growing up years,  Dad gave me his old baseball glove. I guess he had not kept up on the new designs and thought they were still like the old style ones. Thankfully, someone gave me a newer one so I did not have to suffer the ultimate embarrassment of using that old fat finger leather muff. 

While working on the Railroad, I got a little spoiled in the glove department. They provided leather gloves to us free of charge. Therefore, I was never without a pair although they didn't last more than a week at best due to quality. They always came unstitched. Probably one of the top guys' wives owned the glove factory, I would guess. 

The ongoing search at least brought back good memories of my Dad and that is always a blessing. Ol’ Dutch is hoping that he can find some gloves to fit soon or I may have to wait til summer when this construction nightmare ends at least temporarily. If not, I may have to dig out that old baseball mitt and use it next. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.