I tried the hat on for the first time today in thirty-five or so years. It
used to fit. As I recall it looked quite sharp on me then. That would have been about 1959
or so. I think the name of the team was the Cardinals. My brother and I use to play
baseball every summer on the little league team there in Lake Jackson, Texas.
The hat did not fit anymore. My head seems to be much bigger now than when I was thirteen
or so. Anyway, it did not look like the right person had the hat on when I looked in
the bathroom mirror. I stood there looking at the reflection before me and could not
recognize the person staring back. I knew what the person with the baseball hat should
look like and this was not him. I thought maybe if I took the hat off and put it back on I
would see myself. Alas, nothing changed, not even when an effort was made to reposition
the hat in a more familiar manner. It was no good. He was not there. I was not there.
There was only me looking back.
Removing the hat I put it back in the box where it had lain untouched for thirty-five
years. It looked better there in the box. Like perhaps any moment the boy who owned it
would pick it up and wear it like he always did.
Memories, sweet memories, they are surly the very essence of life...
February 1, 1995
