My mother has been sending me hats in the mail for a couple years now. She sends them certified requiring my signature at exorbitant rates which likely costs more than the hat. My mother is an exceptional second hand shopper. Living with very little money most of her life, she had to be good at it to be stylish. I assume she finds them at Value Village.
I spent many hours at the Goodwill as a kid. I learned how to sort through clothing to find acceptable items. My mother, a seamstress, is also very skilled at reading labels to identify fine clothes for herself. I have never minded wearing second hand clothes as long as they are clean, undamaged, and the style I want.
She also was into antiques. She, my brother, and I went up and down Highway 99 (before I-5) going from little antique stores, Goodwills, St. Vincent De Paul, etcetera, through the Kent Valley, Tacoma, and in and around Olympia. We didn’t have a lot of money so she was very choosy. Because my grandparents owned a service station, we had a lot of gas. Hence, the driving everywhere.
She had certain collections of pink Depression era glassware and Story Book Dolls from the 30s which were miniature porcelain dolls with a story book motif. Although I never asked, in my imagination, she always wanted the special dolls as a child and either couldn’t have them or only had one. I kept her collection for awhile of nearly 50 before passing it on to my niece.
I have retained the second hand skill set. One summer not too long ago, I went on a very successful short sleeve shirt hunt several times in Goodwill. I easily snagged some very fine Eddie Bauer shirts that I still wear. When I pay $2.50 for a quality shirt, I can explore color styles easier. I still end up favoring the same colors but can give the unsuccessful candidates back to Goodwill to resell again.
Back to the hats, here is the most recent I received today:
[Picture of me wearing an indescribable white on black Tyrolean hat, 2018.]
The hats are all of the same style which I discovered is called a Tyrolean hat. They have various ugly designs. I have no idea why she is fixated on this hat style. I never respond to these “gifts,” because her responses are so unpredictable, and I don’t want to encourage her.
In my younger adult years, I always had a favorite hat which mostly leaned to felt fedoras. However, during the last ten years of baseball fandom, I have mostly worn baseball hats.
The only conclusion I can make on her hat choice is from this picture, May 1967:
[Black and white picture of me in hat with matching dark skirt and jacket, my mom with 60s big hair with sleeveless patterned summer dress, and my 6 year old brother dressed in white pants and white Buster Brown shirt.]
I had gotten the hat from the Washington State Fair in Puyallup. It must have been from the previous fall. I was very proud of that hat. It had my name in script written on it. I’m pretty sure my name was spelled wrong.
My guess is that my mother keeps buying me that hat over and over. Since we don’t talk, she could be trying to create a link to me through the past. I wish it was safe to reach out to her. I send her a card and flowers for her birthday in May. She sends me a card for my birthday in December along with the occasional unexpected hat.
Sometime in the last two decades she started signing her self as “Mother.” I never called her mother. I always called her “Mom” and when I was younger, “Mama.” Out of deference to her apparent preference, I refer to her in my cards as Mother, although, I’m not sure who that really is.
I’m sitting in my recliner now wearing the latest hat, because why not? The cat and the dog don’t mind and Ronnie is being tolerant. I’m thinking of my mom and wondering about the hat connection. Sending my love to you, mom, until my next card in May.
L’Chaim.
Joceile
12.15.18
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