When I was growing up, I learned first hand about men and hats. This is a picture Granddad Jack’s old Stetson. Let me see, I think it was the Silver Beaver XXX and cost $15~ a huge amount back 75 years ago. He only wore it when he went to lodge. He had another one he used for every day. If we were in the car, it blocked the view from the back seat, more than once it blew out the window, and often blew into the back seat and into someone’s face. We were constantly reminded to “watch out for my hat!”. When we got somewhere, he had to find a place to put it, men did not wear their hats inside! Later, Dan and I married and he liked hats too. He had lots of them, I had to go shopping with him and he would try one on, hold the brim in front and give it a shake. (this was a test or something) It took forever for him to decided since not many fit just right. (Someone once told him that he had a ‘well shaped head’ and he liked to remember that compliment). I hated the hats. They were trouble! We were in Luby’s eating one day and someone took Dan’s hat and left him theirs. He never forgot it and from then on we would have to sit where he could watch his hat like a hawk. When my first little boy was four, Granddad Jack gave him a Stetson for Easter and I thought, ‘Oh No, Here We Go Again!’ It went through lots of wear and tear with stick horses and cowboys and Indians. Sometimes it ended up on the closet floor, under a pile of toys. It was recycled on down to his little brother. I found it in the cedar chest not long ago and was overcome with feelings, I realized how much I loved this one.