Yesterday was the 26th anniversary of the single coldest day in Chicago history (at least as far as the weather records, which date back to 1871, are concerned). The air temperature that day dipped to -27; we will not even discuss the wind chill. As if to celebrate the occasion, Mother Nature decided to send an arctic front through the city late in the evening, sending the thermometer plunging well below zero, where it remained until this hour. (Now? It's at zero.) As chilly as it has been this winter in the Windy City, this was the first time it had gotten so brutally cold. Time to break out the serious gear.
As I've mentioned before, my Dad was a switchman for the railroad and thus was out in the cold often. He was also a fisherman and had gone ice fishing many times, though I did not join him for any of these excursions. (I don't like seafood and I've never trusted frozen bodies of water, so the combination of the two? Hell to the no.)
My point: The man knew how to dress for the weather. He had a good winter coat. He had leather mittens that look like welterweight boxing gloves. And he had the hat you see above.
I don't wear the hat very often since, like Dad's winter coat, its condition is fragile. The top of its bill is worn, and the seam between the bill and the rest of the hat is frayed to the point that the bill's backing pokes through at the corner--straight into my forehead--making it not the most comfortable headgear.
However, when one considers that my forehead would be numb, if not outright frostbitten, without the hat, the mild discomfort of the poking is remarkably tolerable.
I made it to work this morning in relative comfort, and I'll make it back in the same condition.
Thanks again, Dad.
1 comment:
Yes, I've seen you wear that hat. . .but rarely, as you said. It's cool to have something that belonged to your dad. It makes sense to me that you do and that it is such a practical item. You and I have often talked about the many similarities between our fathers. I now have many of my dad's work tools--which I had NO interest in when he was alive. Back then, after I'd left home and moved into my own crib, anytime I needed something to be fixed, Dad came through with his trusty tools and endless skills; I thought I had no acumen for such projects. Just a year after he passed, I moved into my current crib and found there were some things that needed handyman help. I did the work myself--using Dad's tools. Nobody was more shocked by this than I.
Post a Comment