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James Bernard Frost

A Thousand Words: On the Wearing of Hats, Part 2

August 3rd, 2009
by James Bernard Frost

PORTLAND, OR –

Two weeks ago, I posted an entry entitled On the Wearing of Hats, Part 1, in which I discussed the raison d’ĂȘtre for my daily wearing of a shit-brown-colored truckers’ hat. The entry sounded noble, but missed the entire point of my wanting to write it in the first place, which wasn’t to explain why I wear the hat, but rather to talk about the strangeness that has crept upon me ever since I took to wearing it.

I was born and raised in Irving, Texas, a giant, sprawling suburb of Dallas, Texas, whose claim to fame, something emblazoned in huge signs as you entered the city limits on any of its major freeways, was that it was the home of the Dallas Cowboys.

From my earliest recollections, I hated it.

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James Bernard Frost

A Thousand Words: On the Wearing of Hats, Part 1

July 20th, 2009
by James Bernard Frost

PORTLAND, OR —

Every morning for the last couple of years, not long after I get out of bed and look in the mirror, observing that, yes, it is another bad hair day, I have slipped on my head a trucker’s hat that reads, in shit-brown lettering, Stop ‘N Shop, Leland, MISS.

The mesh on the hat is a particularly unusual shade whose color I can only describe as swamp–its original shit-brown, in coordination with the screen-printed lettering, having greened from overexposure to the sun. The green is sort of iridescent, like a fly. The foam front of the hat is a fleshy tan. The bill is more of the shit-brown, creased from much use.

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