My hat is green.Â Itâ€™s wool.Â Very sturdy.Â It keeps my head warm in the winter.Â It keeps my head dry in the rain (like today).
Iâ€™ve had this hat for about twenty-five years.Â The leather band inside is held in by a couple of threads.Â I sewed these threads some years ago.Â The originals are long gone.
I had another hat, exactly like this one, that I bought in Austria in 1976.Â I was with my father and my mother when I bought that hat (my father certainly paid for it).Â We had a good laugh over that hat.Â I wore it.Â In the early â€˜80â€™s, I lost it.Â Luckily, Tapi — my former exchange student/brother/roommate — was living and working in Austria.Â One day he called and I asked him to please send me a Tyrolean hat. He did.Â The feather is long gone (probably the first year).
In our early years together â€“ my hat and me â€“ it was a novelty. Perhaps a fashion statement.Â I was younger then, more concerned about my image â€“ and did not wear my hat that much.
Once, the school at which I taught celebrated â€œhat day.â€œ My hat won high praise from the seventh and eighth graders (kids have always loved my hat).Â However, I had worn the hat because it was a cold morning.Â I didnâ€™t know it was “hat day.”
The fashion and novelty wore off years ago.Â Now, itâ€™s purely a hat.Â And a damn good one.Â I have other hats â€“ and Iâ€™ve worn them from time to time â€“ including a cap from Britain and a toboggan that proclaims my alma mater (for cold ears on long walks in winter â€“ but only when itâ€™s on the bitter side).Â Mostly, though, I only wear one hat.Â This one.Â Itâ€™s the best.