April 20, 2018
You can tell a lot about a person by the hat they wear. At least, that is what I thought until now.
I can remember Grandpa Herb and Uncle Hugh’s hats. They were sweat and grease stained. Grandpa had a few little holes cut in an old greasy felt hat to let a little fresh air in during the summer. The brims were scrunched over at the edges and they each had a unique shape.
But when they cleaned up for the Fourth of July rodeo or parade, they would don a new straw hat, or dig out the felt hat that Grandma or Dorothy made them save for special occasions.
Now you can kind of tell what a person does by his headgear. To some extent. If he comes into McDonalds wearing a hard hat and an orange vest, he is working construction down the street. If he comes into the local pub wearing a good felt hat and orders a round of drinks for the house, he is a rancher that just sold calves. Never mind that he lost money on them. He’s glad they are gone.
You can tell if he is a retired farmer or businessman because he will be wearing a cap with a logo from a golf course somewhere in Arizona. Or maybe a Florida marlin jumping in the front. If he is an oilman, he will have on a Bakken cap or a cap with a drilling rig on the front. Unless he is a roughneck. He won’t care what he is wearing. He just wants to get his day done and get off the rig before he has to trip again.
You will see seed corn caps, Angus caps, and caps promoting the latest beer. You can come to a pretty good conclusion what and where the person goes.
But last night I watched a little of the music awards. Now, it was called country. I’m not much of a cowboy. Too old. Too fat. Too lazy. But the hats that many of them wore, a self-respecting cowboy wouldn’t be caught dead in.
They looked like they had blown off and gotten ran through a combine or a baler! They were scrunched down in the front, and smashed in at the back. Some of them looked like maybe they ran through the combine along with a rooster pheasant and some of the feathers stuck to the crown of the hat.
I’ve became attached to a lot of old hats over the years. There is the one I was wearing when I won a team roping fifty years ago. There is one I rode the great bucking horse, Gorgeous George with, and scored 28 points. There are a few old straws that lost their shape. And a couple good felts that could maybe be salvaged if the Mad Hatter was still in business.
But maybe I will start a band, or rent a booth at the next country concert. They seem to be in demand.