I sat with one of the most dignified men I ever met today.

Cultural Expression

His name is Nathaniel, I think we have a friendship. I hope so.

Having woken at 4:30 a.m., I checked the temperature outside on my iPhone, 27°F. Freezing temperatures have never bothered me. I cope with 27°F more comfortably than 85°F. By 11:00 a.m., it was 37°F. I took one crutch from the umbrella bin and headed out for a walk, as far as the park. The sky was clear, and the sun was having a time of it trying to warm the hardened earth. I didn’t want to be gone too long, since I am deep into a short story. An hour will be fine, Jenny is in St. Charles on a mission for my birthday (dear God, I hope it’s not another hat!) I’m to expect her back around 2:00 p.m., at which time she will prepare a snack to get me through till dinner.

The wooden bench is slatted, adorned with the usual penknife carvings left by delinquents. Nothing too offensive, fuck, cunt, and couple of words I cannot bring myself to write but popular with the KKK. I can take umbrage and move to another bench, of which there are many, but only this one, on the top of the hill, has an unobstructed view over the city of St. Louis, thirty odd miles away. Today I can make out the Gateway Arch, the sun glinting off the side closest to the river. It’s a feat of engineering, the tallest such structure in America, and a symbol of St. Louis.

I had only a few minutes to enjoy the view, joined by a sizeable man wearing a trilby style hat, his tie, loosely up to his neck, and wearing a tan coat, almost reaching the floor. In his right coat pocket, he carried something large and flat.

It was the first morning in several when there was no wind, still as death, but when the stranger wished me a good day, touching his hat before sitting, his voice had all the energy of a mad sea, a great roar. I smiled at him, long enough for him to know I was friendly but couldn’t try to match the presence of his voice.

I been done my prayers, ask forgiveness, and like to come here to reflect, it being Sunday an all. I hope you’ll not be troubled by me.

What did he mean, I at once thought? Why would I be troubled? It’s the first trilby style hat I’ve seen in a while and commented so. In answering, the voice of this man could have come down a great mountain, such was his enthusiasm to tell me.

My wife, she been making hats ever since her mother died. Every Sunday, she been done another hat, bigger than the last. This my only Sunday hat. But the womenfolk, you know, they done to wear the biggest hat in church. I mean, the ones who do wear hats, and the ones who don’t normally wear a hat might break out in a hat. Most women have hats on in church. Let me get me a nice hat, I hear my wife say come Friday. Our babies, they done left this town, working in Nashville. I been thinking hats is what drove them out.

I had this marvelous vision of the stranger’s wife. How she would love attending the Derby, with the Queen in attendance, and hats big, small, wide, narrow, feathers, ribbons. floppy, stiff, and every color imaginable. Men, sadly, wearing boring Top Hats in a fashion that tells you they do it once a year. No sartorial knowledge.

She done got hats for every occasion. To church, of course, but then when done with church she been moving to what she calls her fun hats. So, they wear hats to picnics and sometimes what she calls bad hair day hats. Girl, I tell her, you been done with all your bad hair. His laugh is accompanied with a windstorm of breath, she done have a bad hair day every day is the way I see it.

The stranger looks to be in his seventies. His frosted frizz of hair gives him a look of nobility, dignity. We spoke another hour or so, I honestly lost sense of time. He was funny, polite, and enjoyed poking good-humored fun at his wife. I suspect, like me, only when she is not around to hear.

I am ignorant of the reasons why African American women love their hats. This man’s greatness was not making me feel as dumb as I felt. Rather, he was pleased in my interest and happy to share his life experiences in America, and in particular, Missouri. He talked of hats as a ‘cultural canvas.’ One created over a long period of time. African American women have used the adornment of their bodies to create identities and beauty of their own making. Their clothing, hair, and accessories serve as visual representations of an emblematic statement to the world that their presence matters.

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