I have a closet shelf full of hats, maybe a dozen in all, and none of them looks particularly good on me. None of them fits just right. Those that look halfway decent don’t fit, and those that fit make me look goofy.
You might say, “Well ... don’t wear a hat.” Gentle reader, it isn’t as easy as that to solve the hat problem. When I had a lot of hair, I never thought about wearing a hat. But when the hair on my head began to disappear, hats became ever more important. Rain, snow or hot sun do no good for a bare, bald head.
The best hat I ever had was a red baseball cap which advertised the Moorman feed company. I owned a farm at the time, and needed a hat, and when the feed salesman handed me that hat, it was as though it and I were made for each other. I wore it every day while doing chores on the farm. I even wore it when I went into town on my day job. As you might imagine, with all that wearing, it became dirty, but I didn’t care. Something happened to it, though. It disappeared during a move. It was as though I had lost a good friend.
“Just get a new one,” Mrs. Doud said when she heard me moaning about not being able to find it. I tried to do just that, but it didn’t work. I bought several caps. I accepted several as gifts. None of them was the same.
However, I finally found a few hats I like, and I wear them once in a while. One of them has “The Madera Tribune” embroidered on it. Another of them says “China Lake Naval Air Weapons Testing Station” on its front. Still another advertises “De Boer Dairy.”
I have one old hat that is good for wearing in the rain. It’s a felt Pendleton, with a broad brim, and looks not unlike the one Harrison Ford wears in the Indiana Jones movies. However, that’s where the resemblance between Harrison Ford and me ends. And unless it’s raining, the hat is too hot.
If you see me wearing one of my old hats, and you think I should get a new one, you’ll know I’ve tried, but to no avail. But I tip my hat to you, dear reader, in any event.