Friday, June 14, 2013
Wisconsin 101: This is how we do hats
Ever since I started my job last year, the lady who works at the office by my bus stop has come out to chat occasionally. She has always admired my hats.
I wear a hat not for fashion, although I think hats are neat, but because
1. I get a headache from glare and
2. I don't need to age before my time. Ladies, a tan looks great on a young woman, but you do not want that leathery skin when you get older. (Remember - tanning is what we do to the hides of dead animals - with aged urine, in the old days - to turn them into shoes and purses.) Although if you are a smoker, don't bother with a hat or with sunblock, because that cigarette smoke is going to give you leather lips before you're on social security.
But this lady is stylish and she thinks I am stylish, too, so I let her think that, although I did finally have to admit to her that I wear a hat because the skin of white ladies of northern European descent does not do as well in the sun as does the skin of black ladies.
I rest my case.
So she laughed. Told me she has tons of hats and never wears them and she is going to give them to me.
We talked about the hats that the COGIC ladies wear and wondered why Catholic women don't wear Good Hats to church. The Protestants rule on hats and on music.
We talked some more. Introduced ourselves. She can't remember my name so calls me "Miss Libby."
"You look like a Libby," she says, which I take as a compliment because I really like the name Libby. Indeed, I like it better than my name. (Sorry, Mom.)
I can't remember her name. I can, however, remember that she used to be a flight attendant for Midwestern Airlines, a job she loved but then you know. No more chocolate chip cookies for anyone.
Today, three seconds after I got to the bus stop, the door to her office flung open. She ran out, holding a big plastic bag in front of her. She held it out to me. I didn't know what she was doing.
And then I realized.
At long last, the hats had arrived.