This Caps It All
by
Barbara Goldhawk
It had been a long time since my husband George had worn a peaked cap. His old one had disintegrated with age and had been discarded. He missed it badly when driving with the sun in his eyes. He needed it to keep his hair tidy in the wind when he was walking. He wanted its protection from the sun on his bald spot in hot weather. Even I rather missed the old one, for it had been a deep blue colour that matched his deep blue yes, and gave a little zip to his otherwise conservative clothes.
Why had he not just bought a replacement? There were thousands of men's peaked caps on the market. There were two reasons for his hatless state. For one thing, George detested shopping for any clothes for himself, anywhere, any time. The second and prime reason was because he was so fussy about his cap's fit and appearance. In his words, "It must feel snug but not tight, and be deep in the crown, with no garbage on it."
There was no way anyone else could safely purchase one without his trying it on first. He also rejected any hat with printed embellishments. It must be a plain, single colour, preferably blue, and utterly comfortable. These requirements seemingly eliminated the multitude for sale in Winnipeg. We did try our best with me dragging him from mall to mall in vain, but the perfect fit eluded him, to our frustration.
We were motoring in the United States in early summer. George was suffering from the sunshine spoiling his vision and the wind blowing his hair as he drove. Finally our luck changed. In an American store he found a cap that pleased him. It fitted well and was his favourite shade of blue, and free of ornamentation.
It was nice to see him in a blue cap again. I insisted he buy its twin as well, for replacement purposes. Then, just to please me, he bought one more, red this time. Hurrah! We wouldn't have to worry about shopping for that article of clothing for a long time. When we returned home from our vacation, we noticed a new restaurant had opened in our absence. At our first opportunity we sampled their advertised weekend brunch. We savoured our meal, paid the bill and departed. We settled into our car and George then realised that he had left his cap in the restaurant.
"Probably I left it in the booth where we were sitting, or maybe on the hat rack," he mused, trying to recall where he had absent-mindedly placed it. I had not observed where he had put it either. I just didn't want him to lose it so soon when it had been such an effort to find one he liked. He had two more at home, but at this rate they might soon get misplaced also, and then he'd be bareheaded indefinitely.
Quickly I volunteered to run back to the restaurant and check. I explained to the cashier that my husband had just left his blue cap somewhere on the premises. She summoned two pleasant waitresses to help me look. Even though we had just paid our bill moments before, the headgear was nowhere to be seen. The cashier advised me that she had checked their lost and found box and no blue cap was there either. "There is only one cap here, but it is bright red."
I became excited. "Oh, that's his. That is the one he is missing," I exclaimed. All three women looked at me strangely and chorused, "You said it was BLUE."
"Well, yes," I babbled, "but it was really the red one that he wore today, only I thought it was one of his blue ones, and who pays any attention to what colour hat a husband wears anyway?"
With doubt in her eyes, the cashier hesitantly handed me the cap. The bright red cap. "Are you sure?" she queried.
"Absolutely," I grinned, feeling like a fool. "Thank you so much," I gushed, as if she had handed me a priceless jewel.
Mortified, I got out of there as fast as I could and rushed back to the car, hat in hand. "Oh, good, you found it. Any problem?" asked George.
"No problem," I replied ever so casually.