Ball caps are a staple for golfers, gardeners, baseball players, anglers, coaches, truck drivers and just about anyone else who has a head. The list of activities or occasions where caps are standard wear is endless. If you see a 20s something guy in a pickup truck bearing a Saskatchewan plate, you can be sure he’ll be wearing a ball cap – backwards – as he whizzes by. Hip-hop cap style is sideways, or any which way. Maybe they’re not ball caps, but they look similar, sort of. For guys, caps are a must. They cover bad hair, or no hair, or keep hair from blowing around, for those who have it and care. They block the sun, but not enough for Ray because they don’t cover his ears, so his hat has a brim. On a sunny, windy day, they are problematic: the peak keeps the sun out of your eyes, but it can be tough keeping caps on. The other day, Jay worried more about his cap blowing off in a 70-click wind than his golf shot, so he had me hold it while he teed off. Caps help define an identity for some, usually connected with a guy’s favorite ball or hockey team. Women wear them too. In fact, I have yet to see a woman who didn’t look good in a ball cap. Caps can have their dangerous side, or top, as well. I can’t count the number of times I’ve hit the top of the car door jamb, but would have cleared it easily, were it not for that little metal button on top. I have several layers of cap-button scars on my head. Some guys collect them. Matt’s Grisnick’s Wild Rose Farm on Highway 25, 2.5 km north of Highway 3 has been sporting his cap collection for about 10 years – one on each of 347 fence posts, along the half-mile highway frontage and quarter-mile driveway. He’d been collecting hats for about five years, when he and wife Corina spotted a farm at Buffalo Lake near Red Deer with cowboy boots placed upside down on fence posts around the property. “That’s what we’re going to do with your hats,” said Corina. “We’re in our third or fourth go around,” says Matt. He wears them for a couple of years. When they’re worn out, they get tossed in a bag to accumulate until the sons nail them to the posts, usually once a year. The job has been passed down to the youngest sons, aged 14 and 15, by their three older brothers. “Our daughter never got involved.” Business owners who give caps away to promote their firms won’t give them any more to Matt: they don’t want to see them end up on a fence post where the weather fades the logo. But, neighbours help by topping up the cap supply and Corina brings others home from the charity store. “It’s just fun,” says Matt. And gets old caps out of the closet. |
