By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

He loved hats. Didn’t matter what kind. Male, female, baseball, frilly, top hats, floppy hats, black hats, purple hats. If we went into any establishment that had hats for sale or even on display, he just had to try them on. All of them!

Imagine being in a hurry at the gas station, running late for some event or another and he spies a rack of cowboy hats mixed with baseball hats at the register, along with a ladies sun hat or two. It didn’t matter if they fit or not, he had to try them on. Every single one!

I tried to be diligent to due financial restrictions and of course, the old “you don’t get everything you ask for or want adage,” but I’ll admit at Christmas and on his birthday, he was loaded up with hats.

Even before Captain Jack Sparrow hit the movie screen, his favorite was his authentic pirate hat, a true tricorn purchased somewhere for some exorbitant amount I can not even remember. If he wasn’t wearing it, he was carrying it with him wherever he went.

Then came kindergarten and hats were not allowed, period. No hats of any kind, not ever, not even on casual day. Things did not go well for a very long time, until I let him carry or wear it in the car on the way to school. Then he had to take it off and put it in the front seat with me, so I wouldn’t be lonely and miss him while he was
gone.

When he emerged from class, the first thing he went for was his pirate hat, before he even said hello to me. I wish I had that pirate hat now. I miss him.