A new hat

This is adapted from a piece I wrote for my memoir writing class.

Before heading off to college in the fall of 1970, I bought a soft white felt hat with a large floppy brim, then in style. I can still remember walking around campus in that hat, which was a terrific ice breaker and helped me make many new friends.

I did not start wearing hats again until some years later when I began attending a traditional synagogue, where married women wear some kind of head covering. Most of the many hats I have owned over the years were a variation on the same theme that seemed to work best for the shape of my face: a simple hat with a moderately wide brim.

The chemotherapy I received after my cancer diagnosis caused most of my hair to fall out. To minimize the mess, I had my hair cut very short. It was early summer, and I bought a few cotton knit hats with modest brims that I would throw on when leaving the house. By this summer my hair had returned but I still wore those same hats to synagogue or as sun protection. Then the fall arrived. I had a couple of well-worn hats that had been bought in more recent years, and half a closet full of older hats. The older hats were large, with rather wide brims, the type I had favored for many years. But the significant weight loss that came along with the chemotherapy left me with a thinner face and somewhat smaller head circumference, so the hats in my closet made me look like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s old clothing.

So I set out to a hat store on the Upper West Side. We had driven past the store many times, sometimes stopping at the traffic light just outside the store, and the hats in the window looked nice. When we walked in, I was drawn to a grey hat with an asymmetric brim, longer on the right side, and adorned with a peacock feather and a navy blue velvet ribbon tied in a bow. It was not a hat I would have ever expected to buy and cost quite a bit more than I would have ever expected to spend. Yet somehow that hat was calling to me and fit perfectly.

A difficult experience may change who we are and how we see ourselves. I was moderately overweight throughout most of my adult life, and although I lost the weight over a year ago, I still find my image in the mirror somewhat surprising. Before last year, I spent years in black clothing. Now, having survived through a dark storm, and being newly thin, I find myself drawn to bold colors and new ideas. In the past, I never would have bought an asymmetric hat, let alone one with a peacock feather. But the detour of this past year and a half has taught me to find new meaning and even a sense of balance in alternative routes.

It started as a simple trip to a hat store, but it became so much more.

Although today was relatively mild, it is fair to say that we have seen the last of the warm weather for a while. I am not particularly fond of winter, but this year I find myself thinking about a prayer traditionally said on holidays and milestone occasions:

Blessed are You, Lord our God, ruler of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this time.

I cannot say I am a fan of snow, but this year I feel I will be especially grateful to be seeing it fall once again.

Have a good week.

Love,

Rebecca