Wednesday May 19, 2004
A man needs a good hat
Mrs. Bubba has been bugging me to get a new hat. I guess she's tired of my U.T. and WDVX baseball caps. And my grungy old felt fishing hat. So, a few days ago I think I found the perfect hat. (Actually Mrs. Bubba spotted it and insisted I try it on).
I ended up buying it, and I like it a lot. But even better than the hat was this message from the hat maker attached to the tag:
As a young boy, I always knew when spring had officially arrived. Uncle Newt started wearing his Panama hat. That was always on Easter Sunday. Just as certain, I knew fall was upon us when he donned his felt hat... the week of Labor Day.
I'm a "hat man" of long standing. As a youngster, I looked forward to getting old enough to wear a hat. I learned quickly that, like everything else, hat wearing demanded certain responsibilities. Mainly you had to know when to take it off... like at the dinner table, during the prayer at the church picnic, at the ballgame when the national anthem was played, or when you were introduced to a lady. In some instances a slight nod with a touch of the hat at the brim would suffice.
The pleasures of wearing a hat outweighed these small inconveniences even before civility and decorum had much meaning to me. For instance, if you're not wearing a hat, how do you fan a campfire to get it going or water your horse when there's no watering hole? How do you wave your hat in a crowd to a friend's attention? Hats can hide a persistent cowlick; and in my case, the occasional bad haircut administered to me out on the front porch by my Grandpa Littleton. A good hat shades you in the summer and keeps you warm in the winter. And, besides that, a hat just seems to say something about a man.
Uncle Newt had his hats custom made with a "stash" band where he always kept a crisp $100 bill for emergencies. As luck would have it, there was usually a crisp $10 bill stashed away for his favorite nephew. Having been introduced to the practicality of the stash band at a young age, I felt compelled to provide one for you.
There's a certain comfort in a favorite hat... kind of like an old friend who keeps showing up season after season. When I leave home, my hat goes with me. I hope this hat becomes one of your favorites and serves you well for a long time to come.
Well. I reckon that's a pretty compelling testimony and good enough reason to buy one of this fellow's hats. I got this one. And check out the guarantee.
By the way, Col. Littleton's hats (made right here in Tennessee over in Lynnville) are available at Little River Outfitters in Townsend. If you haven't been up there to see their new store, you should go check it out. It's really nice.
OK, then.
(Make SKB a regular stop as you surf the blogs. You won't be disappointed.)
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