Our Favorite Things #4 – Hats

Find past “favorite things” in Andi’s Attic >>

November 1889

This is the last week of October and another Saturday riding into town (by myself) to visit with Melinda. Baby William is growing like a weed, and I’ve never seen Melinda glowing as much as I have now. She just seems so grateful to God for this little boy, and I pray the Lord will add to her quiver. (Actually, I’m praying that for myself. I think I might be in the family way, but it’s much too early to do more than guess and hope.) For now, I’ll just enjoy Baby William and my own little Jared until God’s timing runs its course. We’ve had loads of fun remembering (and laughing over) our favorite things as children and as young people. You can read the other parts in the Archives >>

4. Our Favorite Hats

This might sound obvious, but I prefer to wear a hat that I can scrunch down on my head, slip the stampede string under my chin, and be assured that my head gear will not fly off in the wind. And I don’t just mean just while I’m riding Taffy. Check out the stampede string in the picture. That adjustable leather string has saved me from losing OH so many hats. I’m not sure how the boys can wear their Stetsons without a string, but then . . . I choke up with laughter thinking about Chad or Mitch wearing a cowboy hat with a string. They just wouldn’t be . . . Carter cowboys. When our cousin Daniel stayed with us part of the spring, back in 1884, he became the laughing stock of the Circle C ranch with his “dude” cowboy attire. Yes, and his hat included a stampede string.

Melinda absolutely adores floppy sunhats. (But I did get her to admit that her wide-brimmed hat is more practical. After all, she’s wearing it on the “Favorite Things” banner at the top of each post.) The more flowers and foo-foo the better. And the wider the brim the better. Well, she asks for it. The wider the brim, the faster the wind can whip it off her head. I admit, I have a few straw hats, floppy ones too, but I lose them the minute I step out of the house. Then I have to chase them around.

Somehow, Melinda has it down to a fine art. She anticipates when the hat might fly off and stops it just in time. Yes, quite the skill. I wonder how many years she’s practiced that? I’ve tried scrunching my straw hat down to make it stay on better, but then the brim flops over my eyes. This is not much of a style statement and an embarrassment to my sister and my mother … and quite frankly … to Riley. He’s perfectly fine with me sticking to my cowboy hat.

I am happy to report that neither Melinda and I go much for those fancy, city-slicker bonnets and Victorian hats we’ve seen on women parading up and down the streets of San Francisco or Sacramento. Some included DEAD BIRDS as part of the “foo-foo.” Can you believe that?