I like to wear a straw summer fedora this time of the year. You know the kind…. Jazz guys wear them while listening to Coltrane. Shady characters that hangout at the racetrack betting the horses wear them.
Cool guys in daygo t's walking along Magazine Street in New Orleans wear them. So do old school mobsters sitting on their stoop down on Taylor Street.
I can wear a linen shirt or my “I Love Hot Moms” t-shirt with my summer fedora. It has become my accessory during the warm months.
The first summer fedora that I bought was on one of my Saturday drives with my Oldman. We often visited a place called Hats Plus up where Milwaukee Avenue crosses Cicero Avenue. It was an old school hat shop that had everything. It’s been closed for a few years.
We wandered up there on a Saturday in the early 1990’s. I was in my mid twenties. Still a cocky Board of Trade guy who thought he was more important than he really was.
I bought one of those real nice Panama hats that a guy playing dominoes in Havana could wear. My dad bought one of those straw boaters a guy at a country club in 1924 would wear. You know the look…. Khaki pants, blue shirt, stripped tie and a navy blazer.
Two hats not very practical for a couple fat fucks living in Oak Park, Illinois.
I didn’t fit the roll of a Latino listening to Tito Puente drinking Cuba Libres in Logan Square. My dad…. Well he sure as hell wasn’t going to Lake Forest for the polo matches and finger sandwiches.
I parked my car at my parents house, so we drove back there after our Saturday jaunt into Chicago. We were so proud of our hats.
It was a warm afternoon so my dad decided to open a bottle of the cheap wine he drank during the summer, Liebfraumilch. We sat out on the back porch drinking German wine listening to the old radio show on WNIB, “Those were The Days.”
After an hour or so of drinking wine and listening to old Jack Benny shows my step mom came home. My stepmom was a liberal who could pass for Rosie The Riveter. She was a tough lady with a kind heart, but when she saw the two of us… buzzed off our butts wearing our new hats she laughed out loud.
Once she was done chuckling she said, “who the hell are you two bozos pretending to be?”
I still own that hat, but have only worn it a dozen times since my stepmom made fun of it. I like wearing it in June, usually on Father’s Day. I’ll drink white wine and listen to “Rhapsody in Blue” or the Latin Jazz show on WDCB if it’s on.
I’m not sure who I’m pretending to be, but when I wear that hat my dad joines me from heaven. It’s like he’s there listening to George Gershwin or Celia Cruz with me. I’m smoking my Churchill and he’s smoking a cigarette.
I’m just an older middle aged divorced dad living in the western suburbs of Chicago. I drive around town in Betty the Green Blazer. I work in a lame office building in OakBrook and I sit on my balcony and throw peanuts at the squirrels.
…and I like wearing summer weight fedoras. That is who I’m pretending to be.
Speaking of the summer months. Ice cream is a staple that most of us keep in the freezer.
Here is a little advice the guy in the straw boater told me years ago after one of our Saturday drives. Never keep ice cream on the shelf of the icebox door. Always store it in the back of the icebox upside down. That forces the air to go up and it can’t form ice crystals. No freezer burn….
…and yeah, I still call the freezer an ice box. I’m still waiting for Red Grange to drop off a block of ice.
Alright, it’s two o’clock on a Monday morning. I guess I’ve already started my work week.
The full moon has peaked and comfortable temperatures are settling over Chicagoland this week.
Look for me putzing around town pretending to be Jumbo from the trading floor. I’ll be the guy with the big booty and the fedora hat.
