A Dozen Eggs In a Baseball Glove

While I was growing up in Arkansas my mother usually had a few chickens. These of course provided fresh brown eggs which we dearly loved for breakfast. The chickens also provided many wonderful meals for many Sunday dinners.

Not long after Virginia and I were married and living in Baton Rouge, I wrote my mother and told her how much I missed those good fresh eggs.

Within a few weeks I received a package in the U. S. mail from home. I thought it had a rather strange smell, but I carefully opened it anyway. Inside the package was a small baseball glove that I had used many times as a child baseball player.

Carefully nestled in the pocket of the glove was about a dozen brown eggs that my mother had carefully placed there, side by side, (not individually wrapped).

You guessed it! All the eggs had been broken in the mail and the glove was completely soaked in a slick, yellow liquid that had seen its better days! The smell was unbearable.