My daughter just texted from the beach, where she’d gone with a friend for a quick get-away. She’d forgotten to take a cap, and hence was a bit crispy around the edges. The gist of the text, “another cap for Dad’s collection.” It will go well with the one she bought in New Jersey while visiting friends a few weeks back. Great. Just what we need.
I keep six or eight caps in the hall closet for when I go out. There’s a good, dress cap if you will. It’s one I bought somewhere, I don’t recall where. When I was teaching, I’d wear it to the occasional marching band practice because the label had some prestige value, or so my students told me. They thought it was quite fetching. I would shamelessly grasp at anything raising my profile even slightly. Several of these adolescents with hyperactive sweat glands asked to “try it on”, which I found revolting after a three-hour session on the football field, so I’d politely (for me) decline. (The expression, “I’m thinking . . . .NO came into play here regularly.) I didn’t want to commingle their DNA with mine. One or two more “work” caps are at the back door with a raincoat and windbreaker in case I forget to go all the way to the hall closet, which is a good fifteen to twenty feet away.
There is a cap in the back of the car. That’s the one I bought in Maine last year when we were going on a short boat cruise and I’d forgotten to bring a hat, as I was sternly reminded by the Sun Guardian, or perhaps I should call her Mrs. Sun Guardian. Had to buy a new one. I do that regularly. It’s pink. Ok, more a dusty rose, a good masculine color, but a departure from my usual tan or khaki. It goes well with two that I bought in DC – one in April when we were visiting and had a spot of rain, and another very similar one that I picked up in June as I’d forgotten to bring the one I bought in April. We tend to do that with umbrellas too. We pick up a couple each trip and forget to either keep them in the car or bring them with us. Each fresh rain storm is an exciting umbrella / cap shopping opportunity. Relating to our daughter’s life changes, this past spring I cleaned out the basement of our collected crap to make room for her collected crap. Aha! A virtual trove of caps. I threw out about a dozen or two that hadn’t aged well in the basement. I still have, though, enough Red Sox and Patriots caps, visors, and other assorted headgear to stock a small store.
A recent garage clean-out revealed several more “gardening” caps hiding under clippers, trowels, and flowerpots. The gardening caps, like some of their basement cousins, are rather a sorry lot. There were a couple from a trip to Bermuda, purchased again in multiples as each shore excursion demanded a purchase. These once proud residents of vibrant resorts have been touched a few too many times by dirty gardening gloves and have lines from many, many DNA deposits. I can’t throw them out because, well, too many memories, and because I forgot to stop by the hall closet on my way out. I can’t go all the way back.
Baseball caps are in some sense rather like old photos that collectively document our lives. In addition to ones from Bermuda, trips to Florida and Disney, Maine, and a few other locations, I have many from area amusement parks. There are mostly from band and choir trips – where again I had to “buy a hat” because I’d forgotten to bring one. A trip of England and Scotland a few years back resulted in a golf cap from “the Old Course” at St. Andrews and a couple of riding caps. These can arguably be called “souvenirs”, as distinct from “I forgot to bring a cap today”. That trip was fifteen years ago, and I still have the headwear to provoke pleasant memories. Several of my hats are in mint condition. They were just worn on the one occasion, and more than a few are in colors or designs that shouldn’t really be worn in public. I bought them because they’d been moved to the back of the store and one could trace their history of price reductions. They were the cheapest ones I could find in an amusement park gift shop, where the mark-up is what, about 300%? I’m waiting for the day when the store puts on the tag, “just take one – we’re never going to sell these.” Some of them are useful when working in the back gardens where not many neighbors are likely to see me. They’re also good if I’m cleaning out the cellar where . . . . oh, wait. Here are two more caps. When did we go to Cape Cod? Was I out in the sun in Vermont at some point? I’ve reached that stage in life, sometimes called retirement, where the hair isn’t always looking its best. Been a while since I remembered to get it cut, or the brush’s “on” switch was not working that day. Throwing on a cap is a handy remedy. But one really can’t be seen in the same cap day after day after day, so they can be rotated effectively to create fashion statements as needed. Have you ever noticed that bank robbers not smart enough to wear hoodies usually select baseball caps in vivid colors? The description reads “was dressed in black except for a teal baseball cap with white piping.” What’s that all about?
A number of folks that wear caps are have a limited vision. Their collections are limited to sports teams or motorcycle manufacturers. Sometimes, we see some profession or logos on the hats – plumbing firms, trucking companies, people that tow autos come immediately to mind. Some have a favorite tractor maker that’s featured broadly on their caps. While at the car dealership recently for a yearly inspection, I noticed a gift shop where one can purchase items, including hats, with the car’s logo. That says, “I’m the proud driver of a . . . . . .” That could probably have been deduced when I drove up in one of your products, but, ok. All a part of branding, I’m told. That must mean that a cap with the Oldsmobile logo will be collectible, and we’ll see this person on Antiques Roadshow in a few months. That cap will be worth more than a Rembrandt.
I’m not totally convinced that baseball caps don’t have the power to reproduce. There doesn’t seem to be any mating ritual involved. One just becomes two or three after a short period of time. The more we put them in places of seclusion and repose, the faster they grow new ones. Throw one or two more new purchases into the mix and, voila! The makings of a Used Hat Emporium. I’m off to the hardware store to buy a new set of hat racks and, oh darn, forgot a hat. I’ll pop next door to the dollar store and get one in lime green or bright orange. I’ll just use it in the back yard.
I'm Thinking...No! 