I was digging through the End Kwote archives today, and I came to a piece that I thought was worth revisiting. The particular hat that this post is about happens to be on my head today, so you can imagine why it caught my eye.
I won’t babble too much. I’ll let the post speak for itself. So, here it is.
My Snapback Hat
This is my hat. My Dallas Cowboys, back-to-back Super Bowl champs, snapback hat. It’s pretty cool. It’s got a vintage feel to it, and it fits me well, which is unusual for snapback hats (they’re usually enormous and make my ears smush out like some sort of hobbit-creature). In general, I’d say it’s pretty nifty.
But lots of people wear snapback hats nowadays. They’re anything by uncommon. So why write about my hat? Why write about my snapback that seems like it’s the same as all the others? Well, mine is special. Mine is different. My hat wasn’t bought at Lids or ordered from some trendy website, and it doesn’t have any flashy swooshes or swoops on the front.
My snapback was my dad’s.
Yep, this was my dad’s hat. He wore it when the good ol’ Cowboys were in their glory days. He probably thought he was pretty cool sporting this hat. Probably thought he was the bees knees. The coolest kid on the block. The old fart (he isn’t that old, but he is a fart) wore this hat when he was younger, kind of like I do now.
There are a lot of memories in this lid. All the things my dad did, all the places he went, all the people he met. It’s kind of like a history book. It’s got his memories ingrained in its threads and his thoughts etched into the tiny grooves of the fabric. His life written on a snapback hat.
I’ll never see what my dad saw when he was wearing this hat. I don’t have a time machine, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to see things through my dad’s eyes. We’re different people, after all. But this hat gives me something else. It gives me something more than the thought of my dad’s memories.
This hat is a reminder. A reminder of all the lessons that my dad has taught me A reminder of all of the knowledge that he’s passed down to me. A reminder of the relationship that I will always share with him.
My dad is an amazing teacher. The dude is just smart. He’s walked down 99% of the roads that I’m going to walk down, and he knows exactly where all the bumps, potholes, and sharp turns are. He’s always sitting in the passenger seat giving me directions if I ask. I’m a lucky kid to have a dad like him. A dad who’s always looking out for me, teaching me whenever he can, and taking the wheel when he needs to.
My hat is a constant reminder of all the help that my Dad has given me. If times ever get tough, I look at my hat, put it on for a second or two, and remember what my dad has taught me. I think of him and his kind wisdom, and I push forward.
I will always wear this hat. I will always keep it with me wherever I go, carrying on the legacy of the greatest/coolest/best/smartest/oldest guy I know.