Red Hat Club


While we were in Europe, I read “The Catcher in the Rye.”  I should say, I reread it.   I am not sure why I picked it up, while we were in that bookstore, in  NYC’s Laguardia Airport, but I did.

The book is pretty depressing, all in all.  I recalled very few details about that story, other than the protagonist’s name, Holden Caufield.  And his red hunting hat.  And his little sister wearing that red hunting hat.

But. That particular detail made me smile.

It reminded me of parts of my childhood.  Some really good parts.  That is the thing after someone close to you dies.  You remember a lot of this’s and that’s.  A lot of good parts, and then some bad parts.  I think we would be lying if we didn’t remember both.

But I have a gazillion of fond childhood memories.  Of my Mom.  My Dad.  My brothers and sisters.  And the part about Phoebe Caufield wearing that red hat… reminded me of how my siblings used to dress me up.  Mostly, my brother Ed.  He would conjure up elaborate outfits for us.  Like Amazon Queens, or Indian Chiefs.  Or maybe even Greek Goddesses.

We had red plaid-ish draperies which we no longer used.  They were stored in our basement, as I recall.  Ed fashioned a couple of toga-like gowns, arm and head bands,  and neck chokers for my sister and I.

We were amazed with ourselves, and our incredible new personas.  The downside was the material of those old draperies.   It was some kind of burlap-wooly material.  I broke out in hives and itched for a week.

Even still… it makes me smile.

I am not sure if my brother had Mom’s blessing in this adventure, or if she found out about it after the fact.  Somehow, in my mind, it seemed like a big deal, but maybe it was just the whole “fun” around it.

Nonetheless.  Whether we were in good graces or in the dog house… I cannot recall.  And the thing of it is… now… where I sit right now…. it makes no difference either way.

Time has gone on.  Life has kept going.  All else since then has transpired… exactly how it should.  Just to bring me to this moment… sitting here… relaying this story to you.

And that is every single piece of ALL of our lives.  Each moment.

I know I have written about this all before.  But, for some reason, it seems harder to accept at certain times in our lives. There are occasions, when I want to flip moments around…. or go back to a certain time… and do it differently.  But it cannot be that way.  Because every moment unfolds onto the next.

And here we are.

So, acceptance, I think….  might be the key.  To all the moments in our lives.  The good ones, the bad ones …. the wear plaid toga ones.

Because we can.