Just Remembering

I grew up in a time when men wore hats that made them dressed up rather than dressed down. My dad wore a suit every day. It was part of his image and his hat topped it off. The picture of dignity. No baseball caps back then - unless you were about 10 years old.

Brothers were much the same in various stages as they are now. I was very wary of mine - at least the one that was nearest to me in age. Often, if I saw him coming my way I took off running.
Self preservation was important to me. (I hated snake bites! - you know - where someone twists your arm one way with one hand and the opposite way with the other one? Stings!)

One particular time when he set off my escape mode I soon realized that I didn't have near enough time to get out of reach so - once I made it through the first doorway - I hid in the corner of the hall behind a hall tree loaded with coats. That, of course, was futile because peeking through the coats I realized that he saw me! I shrieked - and in my excitement was sort of running in place while shrieking - and it took me a few seconds before I realized that he was hollering "You're stomping on dad's hat!"

I was horrified. My brother just snickered. You can imagine why - since it was my feet that did the deed! That was one grossly rearranged hat. You could use a few choice adjectives to describe that hat but dignified was no where among them.

Oh well, I like to think that Dad needed a new hat, anyway.
He wasn't happy.