New Hat.

I got a New Hat.

Just to be clear: I am not a “Hat Guy.”

Believe me, I would love to be. I totally dig the guys I occasionally see on BART who, at 70-something years old, are able to rock some dashing lid with precisely zero affectation or tragic hipsterism. I really wish I could be that guy – or even the nearest equivalent for someone raised in a time when the coolest thing on a dude’s head was that Flock Of Seagulls singer’s haircut.

But I am not a Hat Guy. I own precisely two hats of any consequence. That’s it. Two.

One of them is a pretty cool stylish summer one. The kind you wear when you go someplace interesting and sorta hot. It makes me feel like I am just a little bit more happenin’ (with an apostrophe, just like that). It’s a nice enough hat.

The OTHER one, meanwhile, is a whole different story.

It is brown and old and humble looking.

It’s got a full brim that's always had a bit of a sag, thus earning it the moniker by which many of my good friends and all of my family know it: “Floppy.” Not a very cool nickname – but a totally accurate one.

And it is the single most treasured piece of clothing of any sort that I own, or have ever owned, in my life.

Floppy has been with me for some 25 years. And in that time, it has been on every single outdoor trip that I have ever taken. Day hikes. Car camping. Weekend backpack trips. Longer, ambitious pulls. And, most importantly, fly fishing trips.

If there is adventure about to be had… If I’m about to head off somewhere that requires more-than-the-minimal-effort to reach, and guarantees out-of-the-ordinary-experiences to come my way… Floppy is there, riding up top, keeping my pale complexion from the dangers of my own sunscreen forgetfulness. Keeping the glare of a midday sun from obscuring my view of that soft spot of water on the river. And keeping me safely out of style in every possible way, as I looked not just a little bit like a gangly mix of Opie from the Andy Griffith Show, Woody from Toy Story, and every guy who works at those Log Rides you find at amusement parks.

Floppy is a fan. A sleep mask. A bug-swatter.. A way-marker. A bramble-bender. A flybox. A dashboard decoration. Floppy is a dibs-declarer and a downstream-friend-signaler. It is a totem and a talisman for the idea that I can do something that’s fun and exciting and new and not the usual and just a little risky.

A single piece of clothing that can be all that?

Like I said: the most valuable one I own.

Floppy is even more valuable to me because of where it came from. It was a graduation gift from my parents. Quite possibly the most inspired present they ever got me, Floppy made almost no sense to offer a Studio Art Grad looking for an internship in LA in design and animation. Yes, I was planning a little road trip/camping trip that summer for a week or so… but was it at all practical to get me a hat for a getaway that would only last a week? Why not a watch, or a pair of sensible shoes, or maybe a sleek bag to carry my sketchbook and stuff?

I have no idea why not. But I am endlessly appreciative of the fact that my folks totally skipped sensible or pragmatic, and instead chose to give me Floppy.

In that one gift, they gave me so much more. They gave me permission to take chances, to embrace some unknowns, and to discover what comes from following your passion. So many moments and stories and thrills and sights and fish and friendships. They’re all tied to Floppy. Which means they are tied together. Floppy is quite possibly the most consistently present through-line in my life that I can actually touch with my own hands.

And that’s exactly why I am retiring Floppy.

That hat simply means too much to me to take any chances. And with the brim’s edge tearing open more each season, and the leather band cracking, and the waxing on the cotton body simply not keeping the water off anymore, and having nearly lost it or left that beauty behind more than a few times… well, the right thing to do became obvious at the end of 2019, as well looked toward a new decade.

I needed to get a new hat.

So I have.

I will let Floppy rest. Keep it at the house, somewhere safe, and somewhere special, from here on out.

As of now, in 2020… I am starting with a New Hat.

New adventures. (But also some of the same ones, because the thrill never goes away.)

New places. (But also a lot of the same ones, because those places are part of me.)

New people. (But also many of the same ones, because they are such excellent people.)

I will always have Floppy. Forever.

But now, I am excited to take this New Hat out into the world.

To see how it fits.

To see what I find.

To see where we go.