Well, the rhyme scheme could only go on for so long. Sure, I could have just not abstained from hats and found something else that rhymes, but this one was a fun one. Plus, If anything, having a month that doesn’t rhyme makes the rest of them rhyme even harder. Like Mozart said, “The music is not just in the notes but in the silence between.”
Why hats?
The 12 Abstinences are supposed to challenge various comforts and conveniences in my life. Hats made it on the list pretty early as an abstinence that would be interesting, but not too challenging. I didn’t always wear hats as often as I do these days. I think I’ve settled into it in the last 5 to 10 years. Maybe it’s because my hairline has been on the retreat. Maybe it’s working from home and rarely needing to be presentable to any kind of “office” standard.
Who are you kidding… you work in the bike industry. Office presentable means wearing pants.
When I was a kid, my Dad developed a bald spot, and I remember him being sensitive about it. It didn’t help that we brought it up all the time and poked fun (sorry, Dad). As I have aged, I kept telling myself those things won’t bother me. In my head, I say to myself, “It’s gonna happen, no need to fight it, it’s inevitable... to resist would be kicking against the wind…”. But I wasn’t fooling anyone, including myself. It has bothered me more than I thought it would. Grey hair? Grey hair is cool, a sign of age and wisdom. Balding? Balding has been a bummer, to be honest. When I spot a solitary hair up there on my forehead, like a forsaken Uriah left on the front as the line receded, I think, “When that falls out, it will never grow back.” And so it goes.
The pandemic didn’t help, either.
Oh yeah, it’s COVID’s fault you’re going bald.
No - it’s COVID’s fault that 95% of my professional interactions are in video meetings. From the front-facing, two-dimensional view of a webcam, I look considerably more bald and, well, older than I do in person. My pate… my seemingly infinite pate… bridges all the way back to the horizon of my head. I could be 50. I could be 54. But you put a hat on me? I’m a solid 36….
42 at best.
Ok, sure... the grey in my beard gives me away and I look like the 44 I am.
You’re 45.
Really?
Since August.
Right.
My receding hairline has also made me think I may never shave my beard again. Beards make balding tolerable, in a way. Bald with a beard go together like peanut butter and prunes.
Prunes! You ARE getting old.
It’s delicious, fight me. It’s a yin-yang, hurry-up and-wait sandwich. Try it. Trust me.
It’s almost like, as the hair recedes from the top of men's heads, the pressure increases on our chins. “Look! We’re still young! We’re manly, virile and strong!”
Then it turns grey.
“We’re manly, strong, weathered and WISE.”
When I’ve met people through video meetings, while wearing a hat, I get the sense people think I’m younger than I am. The giveaway is when they ask about my kids.
Them: “…oh cool, you have kids?… one, two..?”
Me: "Three kids."
Them: “Three kids, wow. How old?”
Me:"18, 17 and 12."
Them: “18?!, 17?!... really…”
That’s when I think the mental math doesn’t compute. This exchange is different when I’m hatless.
Them: “Three kids? how old?
Me: "18, 17, and 12."
Them: “Got it. Our agenda today...”.
I don’t mind getting older, really. I joke about it a lot, and I love to blame things on it, but deep down, I am glad I’m still here and pretty happy with my physical and mental state today. When it dawned on me that I was among the oldest in my organization, and I realized the real age gap between me and some of my coworkers, it felt good to adjust my self-awareness, embrace it, and celebrate the dawn of geezerdom.
Recently, a co-worker came up to me at an event and said, “I really like your piercing,” (I have the Rook in my left ear pierced), “...how long have you had it?”. I had to think about it for a minute. “I’ve had it for, jeez, 25? 26 years?”. To which she laughed and said, “Tobie, I’m 26!”. I was so surprised, my dentures almost fell out. Just kidding. I don’t have dentures. We had a good laugh about it, I grabbed my cane and waddled home.
Are we talking about hats or what?
Right.
So, hats function as a disguise for me, but they obviously serve other purposes. Sun protection is a big one. One learns the fresh power of the sun in the balding process. You may be getting old, but that skin up there is a baby when it comes to the sun thing. A sunburned scalp is a memorable experience. This might be a subconscious reason I tend to grab a hat anytime I head outside.
How do I choose which hat to wear? I have a steady rotation, but honestly, I have too many hats at this point.
How many?
It’s not important. It’s a lot, ok?
HOW MANY?
51
Ridiculous.
Agreed.
But, I can explain. I get a lot of free hats working in the bike industry. It’s really effective swag. If you want to get your brand out there, what better place is on top of people? You hear that, brands? It’s EFFECTIVE SWAG (DM for my address). So - I didn’t buy many of them. In fact, now that I count, I’ve only bought eleven of them. Hat styles come and go, but the hats really just come and stay. Even if I don’t wear a certain style as much anymore, I still keep them around. Similar to t-shirts, hats can go through phases of utility over time. At first, it’s all crispy and nice, it holds its shape and sits just right. Then a hot day comes along and, bam!, a fresh high-tide mark from sweat changes the whole dynamic. Or maybe a diabolical bird doo-doo bombs you from above - that little stain isn’t going anywhere. If it’s a real keeper, you wear it and wear it and wear it and the patina gets better and better until, that one fateful day, it fatigues just a little too much, and then you’re a derelict.
The myriad styles hiding in my closet include trucker hats (three heights and counting), dad hats, camp hats, 6-panel, 5-panel, and 4-panel hats, running hats, ball caps, pack hats, surf caps (roped and ropeless), and as I’m typing this, I realize I haven’t even considered how cycling caps fit into this whole thing. They weren’t part of the count, but do I have thoughts about them.
Ok, really just one thought.
They’re for cycling.
I’m talking about the funny little hats that cyclists wear under their helmets. Yes, I wore them without a helmet at various times in my life, but, as my hairline will attest, I’m more mature now.
I love them… for cycling. I need them, now more than ever, to protect my expanding pate from the sun.
Oh man… helmet vent sunburns are the worst. Those shapes take forever to go away.
Back to regular hats.
A hat can have a good long life in the middle phase, once it’s broken in a little, with a touch of character, and not too soiled. Once retired from regular rotation, it’s relegated to yard work and painting. There’s a phase in between there, too. I’ll call it the “salt phase”, when a hat has crusty sweat lines, but is still rad, so it’s the hat you wear when you know you’re going to sweat, but you don’t want to wear a truly dilapidated lid.
In terms of difficultly, this abstinence was not overly challenging. Physically, it was not hard. I did have to “do” my hair every day, which was not too much work, but was a new step in my daily routine. I did have to be mindful of the sun and apply protection more often. I did sweat… everywhere. Running without a hat? Sheesh. Monsoon season.
One thing that caught me off guard was traveling without a hat. It’s so easy to throw a hat on when you’re traveling and not worry about it. It’s also nice to whip out a fresh cap on a trip and feel sharp. I came to the somewhat new realization that a hat serves as a social shield, or sorts, when I’m in a new or different situation or environment. Maybe you can identify with this, but if I’m going into a social situation, I feel less exposed if I’m wearing a hat. It also creates a conversation starter. They might recognize the brand or design on the hat and remark about it. Or they might not recognize it and ask what it’s about.
Hats are like flags on ships, indicating maybe where are you from or what you represent. If I were a sports fan, I could find affinity (or enmity) with a stranger based on their hat. At different points of my life, the color of hat someone was wearing would help me understand (or make assumptions about) them. I'm not saying it’s right, but it’s true. Back in college, it was white hats. Now, it’s red hats or cheese hats. I probably need to keep a more open mind when it comes to those hats… the cheese hats.
I can’t believe you’re still talking about hats.
I know, I can’t believe it either.
Let’s wrap it up.
Sounds good.
October first, the day I was permitted to wear a hat… Do you know what I did? I wore a hat. Oh, it was so nice... like a hug for my head. I’ve gone without a hat a few times since, which is nice (Mozart, again), but all in all, I love hats.
Speaking of hats… if you are a fan of hats, or of books, or of my book work, you can pre-order a Mordecai Book Building hat. I’m only going to have a dozen or so available, so please pre-order one if you’re interested. Other new stuff is available in the shop, including the pre-order for a limited edition book version of these articles that I’ll be building next year. Pre-order your copy of “The 12 Abstinences” here.
Thank you!
PS: As I finished writing this article today, I received a new hat in the mail, so... 52.
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