This is my Uncle Archie. When I was 13 years old I stood in his field beside him on his Blackfoot Idaho farm. His overalls were covered with earth, his collar ringed with sweat. Our family was driving back to Pittsburgh and we stopped to say goodbye. Mom and my brother and sisters were in the house with Aunt Mary.
"I sure do love your hat," I said, thinking how beautifully distorted the leather was after so many hours of sun and sweat. He pulled it from his head. His white hair was matted down against his head. He held it in the palm of one hand, looked into it like it should have a rabbit in it or something. "Yep, it's a good'n" he replied, then he held it out to me. "Take it. Time for a new one anyway."
I loved that hat. I sure wish I knew where it was now. This was in the 1970's. and I was just starting to define my place in the world. I found myself shifting a good couple feet left of center. A hat like this was never seen in Pittsburgh, at least in my Pittsburgh. I wore that hat like a trophy. I had long blonde hair and hats worked perfectly on it, sometimes in braids, but most often blow dried all flowy and hippie-like.
Hats speak for you without any words. You can tell something about a person from a fair distance, through the language of a hat.
One year, at Easter time, Mom, Libby and I purchased an armful of straw hats and gobs of Eastery doo-dads... flowers and eggs and fake feathered chicks. We gathered my kids around the kithen table and heated up our glue guns. Those hats were as ornate and gaudy as St Pauls Cathedral during a Royal wedding. We paraded around the neighborhood in our Easter dresses and ridiculously artsy hats. (It's sort of a genetic trait in our family that if we think something's funny, it is, regardless of what anyone else might think.)
Tonight Dave wore the Birthday Hat. He's a good sport that way, though it's not necessarily his nature. Its a family tradition. As Beth was helping me make his birthday cake this morning, she asked, as she was smoothing the ganache over each layer, if Gumpa was going to wear the Birthday Hat tonight. Well, of course! (He had no choice.) Hats have traditionally been worn by the birthday person at family birthdays, while we are howling Happy Birthday to You in three part harmony. Photos are usually caught with the distorted light of birthday candles in the dark, taken with somebody's iPhone.
I'm grateful for another wearing of the Birthday Hat for my guy. HBD, Dave.
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| Dave in the B-day hat. |
I got thinking about the hats we wear. Not that all of us look particularly good in them. I ran through the photos on my computer and gathered a few hats that say something about who we are.
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| The sort-of hat that changed my forever |
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| Sophie in early rehearsals |
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| Walter's 6th Birthday hat. |
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| Sophies Farmington Golf team hat. |
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Kindergarten graduation hat
(Walter) |
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Pittsburgh Pirates - ballcap of choice
(Parker and Timo) |
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| New Years hats |
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Fur lined hat
(Gracie) |
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Sometimes hats are halos
(Gracie, too) |
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| Ooo La La, Ruby |
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| Christmas Eve hats |
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Birthday Hat on Calvin
(with Jonah and Beth) |
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I made this dandy Father Christmas cloak for my brother John
I think it falls nicely over his snowy head. |
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These chef hats have had many heads under them
(Cal and Beth) |
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| How, Joe |
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Cottage hat 1
(Annie and Sarah) |
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Cottage parade hats
(our gang) |
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Late June Birthday hats
(Libby, Joe, Ashley) |
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June Birthdays
(Not enough hats) |
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Flamingos in hats
(I made hats for various occasions - this was a bridal shower) |
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| Music rolls out better in a good hat |
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Gnome hat
(Kate and Joe) |
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Cottage hat 2
(Ruby and Gracie. Wait, maybe it's Sophie and Joe!) |
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| Ahoy, Cap'n Cal |
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Halo hat 2
(Sophie) |
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Cottage hat 3
(Anna and Timo) |
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Hats on boys I love, long ago now
(John and the Davis High Ball Team) |
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Even our friends wear our Birthday hat
(Emily Manwaring and her birthday guitar) |
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High School Musical hats
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Drummer Boy hat
(Timo) |
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| Cub scouts in chef hats |
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| Joe in my fishing hat |
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| Goofy sisters in Olympics hats |
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Covid birthdays mean hats are seen through windows
(Walter's Birthday 2020) |
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Feathered hat
(Tess) |
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More feathered hats
(Annie's kids) |
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Jessie hat on Christmas morning
(Gracie) |
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Ring in the new year hat
(Calvin) |
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Cold hats
(Parker, John and you-know-who.
John skiing in his Uncle Mark's 1970's leisure suit) |
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Pout with tiara
(Beth) |
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Thanksgiving Pie Night hat
(Anna, Gracie, Sarah) |
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Baby hat...we've had 11 of these
(Baby Tess and sibs) |
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Work hats
(Ash and John) |
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Hats that empower race runners
(J & A) |
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| Halloween hats at Aunt Sherry's Halloween party |
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Our grandparents went to England and all we got were these hats
(Joe and Cal) |
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Fishin' hat
(Park) |
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Oddities in our gene pool
(my siblings and I) |
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Our mother and her sisters trained us
(Three from my mom's generation and two from mine) |
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Their mother trained them.
(Blackfoot Grange Kitchen Band
Grandma Lizzie is on the drum/pot in the middle) |
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Mom's mom. What a hat!
(Grandma Lizze Parrish, age 16) |
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Party animals from the start
(I think my grandmother may have been pregnant with my mother here) |
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Mom wore many hats. Sarah wears one of them
(with Gracie) |
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Annie in the original Birthday Crown
(with Sophie) |
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One must always claim a Disneyland hat
(my sisters Libby and Sue) |
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Sometimes dad's wear their kids as hats.
(Dave/Timo John/Sophie) |
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Hats and cowboy boots always help a broken leg feel better
(Kate) |
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| Ruby claims her rightful crown |
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Hat with beaded band.
(Willie George, a Native American legend and family friend at the Blackfoot PowWow)
(I'm the sunburned blonde with his hand on my shoulder.) |
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Sometimes the only hat you need is a pair of ears
(Tess) |
