DAIV
I have about 50 hats, including a russian Ushanka Mouton hat and a chinese embroidered skull cap, but my straw comboy hat I bought at the Cleveland Zoo has become my 'traveling hat' because I wear it on all my adventures. It also rests on the dashboard of my vehicle, so it literally travels wherever I go. Last summer me and a dear friend ventured to the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore in the middle of beautiful Lake Superior in upstate Wisconsin. It's the largest body of freshwater in the world and really a beautiful locale, with primitive camping on the islands and pristine midwestern beaches and access only by a ferry that carries campers there from the shore of Bayfield, Wisconsin - Gateway to the Apostle islands. Oh, and there are bears there as well! It was an amazing camping experience and quite beautiful, though it rained nearly our entire stay on the island. I remember standing on the dock one evening watching the one sunset that happened during our stay - everyone on the island came out of their tents and applauded the sunset as it cut through the greying mists of twilight and rain because of its rare beauty. After we left the island, we ferried back to Bayfield and drank beer with fellow campers and had a fine fish dinner. The next morning we left in a hurry by automobile to make it to Frank Loyd Wright's summer home, Taliesin, a remarkable space due to its architecture and landscape design. In my haste, I forgot my hat and left it in the motel room on the dresser top. A hundred or so miles later I relaized my hat was not with me and I panicked. All these memories came back to me of places I had been with that straw cowboy hat upon my head - the Wisconsin Dells, Portland, Manhattan, Mentor Headlands, Yellow Springs, Toledo, Montreal, Pittsburgh. And the Urban Dare, an "Amazing Race" of sorts through the streets of Chicago several summers back that was part endurance race and part historical riddle-solving and part obstacle course, all designed to get competitors to find clues and reach an unknown Finish Line first. That hat had been with me through many great times and I was ! besides myself because I had left it behind. My pal Derrick, always calm and collected, called the motel and told them our room number and what I had left behind. When I returned to Akron a week later at the end of my trip, after Taliesin and the bright urban bliss of Minneapolis and the cool jazz and warm winds and pretty dresses of the girls in Madison, Wisconsin - there was a box waiting for me at my home, just sitting there in the setting sun and peeling paint of my front porch. It was about the size of box I imagined my lost hat would fit into, but I was doubtful with Today's customer service ettiquette that those moteliers would have bothered returning a rag-tag straw cowboy hat. I hesitantly cut open the box, gingerly, so as to not dammage what i hoped was inside. And it was inside - my cowboy hat had returned over nearly a thousand miles and was once more in my possession! Needless to say, it was a great way to end my vacation, and I promptly sent-off a thank you note and small check to cover the shipping expenses. Those Wisconsites really renewed my faith in customer- service-humanity, and to this day my cowboy hat adorns my dashboard and goes with me on my adventures. I just leave it in the car when I stay over places so I won't foget it again.
MARY
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived by an airport. All her childhood she would look up at the planes above and scream to them “Wait for me! Take me with you!” and those planes would leave her behind and continue on their journeys. She made a vow that one day she would be the one going to the wonderful places and meeting all kinds of wonderful people. When she grew up, she worked hard and her wish came true. She attained a job with the promise of travel and adventure. The problem was she had to wear a hat that made her look worried, and cranky. Like a real witch. She got to go to all the places, but had no time to see them. As time went on, she injured her knee. The pain was unbearable. She would get to a big airport and cry inside at the thought of having to run to get to the next flight. She was miserable. The job ended, but the knee injury was there. After surgery, she got sicker. Blood clots almost took her life. She was told flying while wearing her work hat was no longer an option. She had to hang up that hat and find a new one. She got better and stronger, and searched long and hard for a new hat to take her to those marvelous places. After years of searching, she was very tired and ready to give up. One day while out with friends she met a boy. His smile instantly caught her heart. For two weeks they were together, and then he moved far away to the land of Charlotte. They both thought that would be the end of it. One trip lead to another, and another… and before they knew it, they were very much in love. The distance still there, and the trips would continue until they could find a way to live in the same land. As the girl left her car and took the short journey into the airport she remembered all the times when she had long trips through the airports in pain and sadness. Today, it was a short walk, and so much less painful. It struck her as she saw her reflection in the window that the girl smiling back at her was so happy. The old witch hat had been replaced. She was now wearing a crown that reflected the smile in her eyes. She had become a princess and she was going to see her prince. She had finally found the hat that she had searched her life for, and it was a hat that showed happiness and love, the most perfect hat in the world. Not the end…just the beginning of a new adventure with lots more volumes to write, places to see and happiness to share.
KEITH
We were on a cruise with Royal Caribbean and we purchased our only souvenir, a hand made wooden bowl in Haiti that was huge and very fragile. We were going to use it at home as a Caesar salad bowl. When we tried to board the plane in Miami, coming back to Ohio, the flight attendant said that I couldn't carry it, as it was too large to fit in the overhead compartment. We were going to have to check our beautiful bowl and we all knew that it would not survive without being packed properly. I told the flight attendant that it was my hat and she said that if I were to wear it, I could bring it on board. Here is a photo of my hat from Haiti. It survived while riding on my head from Miami to Ohio and is still my favorite hat.
LORNA
Fedora, sombrero, skimmer, beret, baseball cap or babushka, I've worn them all. The best and most memorable is the authentic Tilley hat that accompanied me to Peru in November of 2001 and to South Africa in 2004. From Cleveland almost at sea level to Cuzco, Peru, 13,000 feet high in the Andes, my trusty Tilley was bent, crushed, and stuffed in and out of my rolling duffle bag, back pack and poncho. I slept on it, and in it. It became a dust mop, seat cover and sun block. At the airport in Cuzco, we were offered coca leaf tea to help relieve the shortness of breath, dry mouth and inability to move faster than a turtle. As I slowly sipped the tea, a guide offered me some coca leaves and suggested I chew them slowly. As I did, I began to breathe a bit more easily. The musicians in the airport suggested I take some with me so without skipping a beat, I placed a few of the leaves in the pocket in the roof of my hat. After I adapted to the altitude, I forgot about the coca leaves. As we prepared to return to the United States, one of my friends said, "Make sure you've emptied your pockets and purses because we are not allowed to bring any plant material back into the United States." It wasn't until I arrived outside the airport that I took my hat off and suddenly started laughing. There were some tiny leaf fragments falling out of the hat. I had to turn it inside out and shake it on the ground before going through security. Imagine the US customs officers asking me if I had anything to declare if the leaves had still been there? I would have had a lot of explaining to do. In 2004 I took my Tilley hat with me to South Africa and where I actually met some Bushmen. They were two sisters in their 80's who told us their story in their native tongue. I couldn't understand a word but I knew what they were telling me without translation. Their lives had been filled with misfortune and yet they celebrated every day. I hope I will always remember ! their courage and tenacity. When I look at the photo of me in my Tilley hat, it brings back so many great travel memories. I think it's time to win those tickets so I can grab my hat and hit the road again.
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