This morning in my writing, I remembered the old hat I found in Mom’s closet. It was one of her mother’s old church hats.
She let me play with it, but it didn’t take long for me to see that it wasn’t really my style. I think I was nine or ten. With permission, I deconstructed the hat and wore it for years, till I lost it somewhere in the field between the woods and our house.
It fit perfectly with my idea of myself as an explorer, with my radioactive Army watch on my wrist and my eyes on the horizon. Dad found that watch in one of the used cars he sold and I begged for it; it was my first timepiece.
Random memories from a feral childhood. Maybe one day I’ll be good enough to draw the faces under those hats.
55 was a good year for me personally. Two of my poems were published. I shared many, many good times with friends and family, often involving music, art and literature. I made new and personally fulfilling connections. My rheumatoid arthritis management is working…big yay! My husband continues to be funny and supportive and just difficult enough to keep things lively. (I am also difficult.)
I think 56 is going to be good. Entering a challenging new era along with the rest of the world and looking to make the best of it.
Meanwhile, these hats! Kitty and I saw these works by Kate Savage and their accompanying portraits on Saturday at the always worthwhile Museum of Art & History in Lancaster.
Which hat would you wear? What would you wear with it? Today, for my birthday, I might choose the mirrored or the regal hat. But for every day and if I could only choose one, I would wear the rustic magical horned hat. That looks an invitation to earth and animal energy to me. I’d wear boots and leggings and my brown poncho/shawl and make a necklace of polished stones and fountain pens to go with it.