THE HAT OF TRUTH
I often wear hats outside
on the playground at school, and on walks, to shield me from the
sun. Recently I bought a broad-brimmed one made of thick straw, that
I fancy looks really cool when cocked at a certain angle, especially
when I'm using my snake-carved walking stick, too. (My wife and I jocularly
refer to my hat and stick as my "affectations".)
The catch is that the brim of this particular
hat often cocks back up while I'm walking, so silently that I'm not
even aware of it. And when the brim is up, I look so nerdy that I give
yokels a bad name. The way the
situation plays out, I'm likely to be thinking I'm cutting quite a swath
passing a group of people, when in actuality everyone who sees me wants
to ask, "Where's your mule, hayseed?"
Isn't that the way it is with the ego?
We think we're waxing brilliant when we're actually making fools of
ourselves. Or we really are doing brilliantly and then the slightest
turn veers us off course and we're behaving idiotically, without even
noticing the change.
a
fine Billy Collins poem about hats
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