Who Me? Okay, maybe. I’m guilty.

Recently, I have been buying hats and coveting many, many others. I do have a small collection. Some purchased and some gifted and all special. A hat for almost every occasion; in which I would care to participate. Most of my hats are new but two are old, and I will get to those two stories momentarily.

First, let me make the distinction between a hat and a cap. Baseball caps are just that, CAPS, of which I have a few. I used to have many more but my taste turned to other styles. So, I gave away dozens of baseball style caps.

The only baseball team cap I ever had is, of course, the New York Yankees; of which I have four. The most unique is one without the embroidered NY logo on the front, you would expect. Instead, emblazoned on the front are Hebrew characters that sound like “yang-keys.” It’s an MLB cap, so it is officially licensed.

I do have another NY baseball cap, which is also special. It is a replica of a 1948 New York Cubans wool cap. The Cubans won the Black League World Series in 1947, the year I was born. (I even have a moth-eaten woolen Cubans replica jersey, #1.) All totaled, I have seven baseball-style caps. Not many, yet all with memory and history.

HATS are another story! I have four fedoras, two berets, several Ivy caps, and one each Jungle Hat, Stetson Panama, Newsboy, tribal headdress, Cowboy, and Coonskin.

The last two: Cowboy and coonskin are the most special. The Cowboy hat is not your run-in-the-mill rodeo hat. Or a fake wannabe cowboy hat. It’s a beaver Resistol in the “Cattleman” style. It’s a businessman’s hat.

SIDEBAR: In 1963, JFK was assassinated. His alleged killer Lee Harvey Oswald was in custody by the Dallas police. My Cattleman’s style cowboy hat was very similar to the hats worn by the Dallas detectives guarding Oswald which reminds me of JFK.

Before eighth grade, we lived on Lorillard Place in the Bronx, in the Italian neighborhood. This is my only point of reference regarding timing, so, before I was 13. Every other year in August, Dad would go to a reunion of his WWII Army (Ranger) unit. Most times Mom would go as well. At one of these reunions, before I was 13, Dad reconnects with an old Army buddy, Randy Raines. Randy was from Dallas, and Dad said he talked long and very slowly. As most conversations go among friends, the family becomes a topic. Randy says to Dad, “You got a boy! I’m gonna send him a cowboy hat.” When I heard that I was thrilled. I sat on the stoop for days, maybe weeks, waiting for the UPS truck to deliver my cowboy hat. No truck, no cowboy hat, not even a beanie! Crestfallen. I couldn’t look a cowboy in the eyes for years. Not that I met that many in the Bronx.

Decades later, after 1976 (again, another point of reference based on where I lived), Mom and Dad are coming to visit. As he pulls into the driveway, I immediately noticed he is wearing a white cowboy hat. THAT IS MY HAT! I’m about 30 at this time and still very excited. This was the Resistol beaver Cattleman! It was August, and Dad had just returned from his biennial Ranger Reunion. Texan Randy reminds Dad of his promise years ago and Dad had to say, “that was years ago. He’s not a boy anymore.” Right there and then, Mr. Randy Raines takes the hat off his head and puts it on my father’s. Promise fulfilled!

Long before the cowboy hat promise, I was crazy for Davy Crockett (King of the Wild Frontier). Disney had a movie and a TV series. I learned the theme song and sang it all the time. I even taught my younger sister the song. I was smitten.

SIDEBAR: I choose “David” as a Confirmation name. And, since I was not born with a middle name, I assumed it as my middle name, which has since then caused some confusion about my “legal” name. Another story.

Anyway, everybody knew Davy Crockett wore a coonskin cap and I had to have one. Mom refused to buy me one. A friend of hers was willing to buy the hat for me and Mom refused to accept the gift. Another frustration in my young life. Apparently, decades later, I might have complained about it to my sons: Peter, Matthew, and Michael, in the course of some abject “disappointment” lesson.

Years later, the boys had returned from a trip to Disneyland with their Mother. At our next meeting, second son Matthew very proudly presented me with a Davy Crockett coonskin cap, which he bought for me at Disneyland. I was very touched and grateful. I treasure that faux fur and real raccoon tail cap. I will bequeath it to Matthew’s eldest son, and my eldest grandson, Anthony.