Baseball caps are either earned, demanding or aspirational.
Sometimes they look forward in anticipation, as in wearing a team’s hat to a football game, or one given as a gift at the beginning of a project or career. Sometimes they look back. They may be well-worn and covered with the grime of work and play, but they are reminders of places we have been. And nearly everyone has that one hat — the preferred one, the lucky one, the one that is loved to the embarrassment of those who are seen with the wearer.
We use the image of wearing hats to describe what a person does and the roles they play. Most of those hats are of the aspirational variety and must be grown into. I think of parenting, or of caring for aging parents. They both are part of life, but by the time one figures it out, it is time to put on a different one. Some hats are given to us by life — illness, grief, or broken relationships. No one wants them but wear them we must. Ill fitting as they may be, they become part of us and cannot easily be hidden.
Some hats get blown off by storms or knocked off because we are playing too hard. I have had to pick up plenty of hats that have come off my head while I still needed them. And some hats just get old and worn out, the only thing they are good for is to hang on the rack and remember.
Hats are an immediate identifier of tribe, purpose and intention. In some cases, they are a direct line from someone’s head into their soul and expressions of allegiance. The person under it must be consistent with what is on it. When they do not match people notice.
There are some hats that come with immediate honor and demand recognition. I was walking into the grocery store a couple of weeks ago and out walked a man I do not know. He had more than a few years behind him and although steady and possessing strength, could not quite walk upright. His eyes betrayed experience that had earned him the right to wear a hat that said, “Vietnam Veteran.”
I looked as we passed, nodded my head, and quietly said, “Thank you.” He did not have to ask, “for what.” He knew what that hat expressed. I don’t know what he did “over there”, but I suspect it was more than work in a warehouse.
This Sunday is Veteran’s Day. It is a day to remember and say thank you to all those who put on hats of service in our military to serve all our interests in a world that from time to time and place to place erupts in violence. It is worth remembering that we did not give anyone a choice before 1972. There is nothing in my life experience to compare to being drafted into a life that I did not choose. Those were hats that were given to young men whether they wanted them or not. They deserve our gratitude and thanks.
There have always been those who have chosen to wear such hats. Everyone has their own reasons. Some are noble and some less so. Some have some idea of what they are getting into, others not at all. All those who have served our nation deserve our thanks for wearing those hats.
It is no secret that I would prefer a world without such need. And if there is a need, I would prefer for mistakes not to be made in policy and execution. However, such a world does not exist at present. I want a world in which we all wear hats of love, kindness, and tolerance. We can each do our part there. Until then, we can thank all those who have served an imperfect nation in an imperfect world because we needed them to do it.
Sean Niestrath lives and ministers in Madisonville. You may contact him via email at sean.niestrath@outlook.com.
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