Requiem for a worn-out Stetson cowboy hat
UNDER the wide and starry New Mexico sky
Dig the grave and let the old Stetson lie:
Glad did I wear it and gladly will I let it die,
And I laid my old Stetson down with a will.
Well … Not quite.
My husband resurrected his beloved, decrepit old Stetson cowboy hat from somewhere deep in the bowels of his woodshop/storage shed this week and wore it while driving his new tractor.
I thought this ancient, deplorable thing was gone and buried. Off to Goodwill. The flea market. Or the trash man. This hat has now surpassed even what Ralph Lauren would wear (check this out) and is well into the itinerant sharecropper phase.
There are three other perfectly good Stetson cowboy hats in the closet.
Let’s try that last part again …
And I laid my old Stetson down with a will.
(Or else my wife is going to sell it on eBay.)
Note: Woeful Stetson cowboy hat modeled by 8-year-old C., who has stipulated I explain here that he was coerced by his mother (and sister, although she will no doubt claim innocence) into posing for this photo and has nothing to do with any of this getting-rid-of-Dennis’-favorite-old-hat thing, and in fact supports any kind of hat that Dennis wishes to keep and wear, regardless of its condition.
