Something wicker this way came.

Continued next Spring.

A reel cowboy and Moore.

Friday was the kick-off of the Texas State Fair ("Our state fair is a great state fair!"). City Hall sent out a memo saying Western wear "was approved" for the day. Dallas.

I walked over to Main Street at lunch to watch the Texas Sate Fair Opening Parade. I participated in this parade a few times in the late '60s and early '70s, as a member of the Preston Trail Ride. We rode horses and wagons from Preston in Grayson County (a historic crossing of the Red River between The Republic of Texas and Indian Territory USA) down the old Preston Trail (pretty much Highway 289 and Preston Road today) to open up the State Fair every year.

On my stroll, I was wearing this J.B. Stetson 5X "Cattleman", my El Paso made (meaning, "real") Tony Lama kangaroo skin rodeo heel boots, a tooled belt with a handmade Pearl Beer buckle, and a starched Oxford cloth western Shirt from Cavender's.

Making my way to the parade, a father pointed me out to his daughter, saying, "Look! A real cowboy!" Well, no and yes. I've done it, but I don't anymore, and haven't in a long time (almost 40 years). But I paid my dues and earned the look.

Behind me is a slanted building designed by I.M. Pei, and a Henry Moore sculpture often used as a public urinal in the past by Dallas' homeless. Who says "art" serves no purpose?

The Texas Two-Stetson.

What's old is new again. See for yourself.

Step up, son.

Some may recall my late, lamented John B. Stetson straw hat. It lives on as my yard-work hat, but it is not presentable for public viewing. I've been looking for a Western style replacement hat, but without luck (in my price range). But...

I made a barbecue expedition to Garland yesterday to try out a little drive-up called "Meshack's" (borrowing its name from a long closed South Dallas BBQ joint of some fame). It was worth the trip, and stands in my book right now as a top three BBQ spot in DFW. It's on Avenue B. Check it out.

Being out in the "Land of Gar" is a rarity for me, so I decided to make the most of the trip and swing by the Resistol Hat Factory and check out their outlet store. There it was, a Stetson 10X "Rancher" straw with side vents, in one of the two sizes that fit my cranium (a 7-5/8th).

I wore it to church this morning, and someone commented (looking at my sneakers), "Where're yer boots?" to which I replied, "It's a hat, not a costume."

Second chance.

I got this Ecuadorian straw hat several years ago from Orvis. One could call it a Panama if one felt so inclined... I don't.

The sub-fino straw was woven in Ecuador, and then made into a hat here in the USA. It's a "one size fits all" hat, and I have blamed that design (it's the elastic sweatband) for the odd transition between the brim and the crown. The proportions are off, or the crown is too high, or something. I've just never felt comfortable with it, eve though I like the general shape.

Any way, it's hung unused in my office. My old favorite straw died this spring (I think it's decomposing), so I set out to find a new straw hat for the summer (no pun intended). I'm giving this one another try after buying and returning a similar hat from Woolrich that was advertised as a "Panama-style" hat. The hat was from China, and instead of straw, it was made from woven paper. Back it went.

Financial constraints prevent me from ordering a Havana-style Panama hat, so this hat (much like the previous post) is getting a second chance.

Not a Panama.

This is a toquilla straw hat from Ecuador, commonly called a Panama hat because of their popularity there as an export item during the years the Panama Canal was dug. The name stuck. So, it really is a "Panama" hat, but Panama hats aren't from Panama, but Ecuador instead.

I've had this hat for a few years, but never really liked it's "roll-up" style. This year, in need of a new, cool straw hat, I formed the crease in the front of the crown (it had been just a plain barrel). I like it much better now. But I really want one like my cousin Harry Truman wore.

Summer Helmet

A Made'n Murhica pith helmet. The manufacturer's name is the unfortunate "Dorfman-Pacific". I say unfortunate, because I get looks like I'm wearing a "Dorkman-Specific" hat when I don this. But it's incredibly cool (ventilated), and I wear it when I am riding the Arched Bicycle of Canterbury (seen in the background). Helmets are required in Dallas.

Roosting for the rooster.

They gather in flocks in other parts of the house as well. Very Hitchcockian.

Falling for a new hat.

Fall has arrived (or, is arriving as I type), albeit about a month late. The first "cold" front of the season is blowing in, with temperatures expected to drop into the upper 40s by sundown. Right, too.

That's why I wore my new waxed-cotton ball cap. Heightened expectations.

Not me.

I got this Panama hat at Orvis, hoping I'd like it. I don't.

All the elements of a good hat are there, but the shape just doesn't quite work for me. The crown is too big, the break between the crown and the brim is too soft. I wear it on rare occasion. Very rare.

Earliest Pop's hat?

This photo dates from 1956, and judging by the cool weather attire, I should be five years old. That's my brother in the watch cap (14) and my sister (2) looking on in amusement as I have just been finned by a not-dead-yet sand bass.

I can't quite tell what my hat (and jacket) are saying here. At first glance, I look like one of Brando's motorcycle hoods in The Wild One (Marlon himself?), but more likely this is an attempt to emulate one of my childhood heroes, Lt. Col. Jimmy Doolittle of The Tokyo Raid fame (Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo).

However, if you consider that my brother's attire looks to have been influenced by On The Waterfront, it might be safe to guess that my mother had a thing for Brando.

Texican Immigrant Laborer.

Cleaning off the roof after the spring-fall of twigs, branches, and dead animals. After almost two centuries in Texas, my gene pool from 100,000 +/- years in Scotland and Bavaria has yet to adapt to the land I have arrived in.

This sweat band-less straw hat does the best job of absorbing sweat of anything I have ever used. A hat's sweat band always blocks the sweat, causing it to pool up and drain into my eyes, driving me blind with rage and stinging salt. But with the sweat band removed, the straw in this hat draws the sweat up into the crown and out the brim, evaporating and cooling my head.

This is the intended design of a straw hat, ruined by improvements.

Hard headed Kraut.

This is one of my several bicycle crash helmets. Probably one of the least functional hats I own, and the only one that my wearing is mandated by law. It's crash-design speed is approximately 15 mph, and yet if I were to simply fall over backwards, my head (based upon my 6'1" stature) would hit the ground at over 20 mph.

It doesn't keep the cold and wet out in the winter, and doesn't do a good job of letting the heat and sweat out in the summer time. Its effectiveness at protecting me from head injury is still debatable, but it does add to my road visibility (if reducing my ability to see just slightly), and it probably serves its best use in helping protect me if I fall off my bike when I am getting on or off it at a standstill (not an unlikely scenario for a klutz like me).

Whatever. I guess I'm just a slave to fashion (and the law).

The original Pop's Hat revisited.

That's June Anne LaGrone (granddaughter, and namesake of my sister and mother). I walked into the room, and she yelled "HAT!" and grabbed it off my head and put it on hers.

Another REAL Pop's hat.

This bucket hat belonged to my dad. It is in my favorite accent color PMS-123, (better known as PMS Yellow).

Frau Summer has declared that wearing it in her presence ist Verboten.

She's away.

I'm so glad.

Handkerchiefs.

I'm the only person I know who carries one at all times, either folded into a point in the breast pocket of a jacket, or folded into a square and stuffed into a hip pocket, or simply stuffed into a front pockets of my pants. I usually use them to wipe sweat off my face and out of my eyes. I never use them to blow my nose. I have offered a scrupulously clean one to someone who was crying.

And I have been known to tie a knot in all four corners and wear one as a hat when I am working outside (or to wear underneath a bike helmet).

In the photo above, I am about to begin the process of removing the mildew that blossomed on the carport beam. Dallas' formerly moderate humidity has given way to almost Houston-like levels (thanks to suburban sprawl, swimming pools, and lawn sprinklers).

Global damping.

Don't look at me.

This is very nice genuine Panama of a superior straw. It has a slider/keeper for the chin strap that's made out of a nut shell. It fits great, it breathes wonderfully, so my head stays cool, provides ample amounts of shade, stays on my head in strong winds, and it's quite attractive.

But it looks kind of affected. Too stylish? Too Bohemian? Too something.

It works great, just don't look. It embarrasses me when you look.

The Ghost of Summer past.

Dolomite

This is another hat I got at Neiman Marcus during a Last Call sale. It was reduced 80% of the regular price (costing $40). It's an Italian-made 100% fur hat in the preferred mossy green that makes me feel invisible. This hat is incredibly soft-to-the-touch, and the temptation is to just keep stroking it with my fingers. Whatever fur was used is of premium quality.

In the backround is a light dusting of snow.

The Dolomites are the Italian Alps, hence the title: Italian, snow, mountains.

A reach, I know.

Fuzzy logic.

This is your basic nylon ball cap, but with a crucial difference for the folliclly challenged. This cap, made by a company called Weatherproof, specializes in the use of microfibers. The exterior is a water-repellent nylon, suitable for fog and drizzle.

The interior of the crown, however, is the source of true joy in this cap. It is lined with micro-fleece, keeping bald/balding pates comfortably warm in the winter months. The human scalp is one of the primary radiators of body heat. A bare scalp in winter could lead to impaired cognitive abilities.

Not a small matter of importance, especially if you have a big head.