The Hat

Everyone knows Andrew.

Or rather, they know his hat.

Every day, winter and summer, spring and fall, he wears the hat.

This is the third Tilley hat Andrew has bought. I keep buying him new ones for when we go out. Tilley hats may last forever on safari, or mountain climbing or trekking through the dessert. But they are no match for a farmer.

(This is not a paid plug for Tilley, honest. We're just really, really impressed with the quality of their hats, and Andrew is never without one. He even has a smart Winter one now.)

But more than practical, they identify Andrew.

I didn't recognize you without your hat, people will tell him on days when he does forget it.

Although we don't encourage people to wear their hats when public speaking, it wouldn't be you without the hat, is a comment a fellow toastmaster made once.

When driving in Toronto I got a call on my cell from my brother in law. You're two cars behind us he said. How do you know that, I replied? We're driving a different car.

I can see Andrew's hat, said Stephen.

But you truly know the hat is important when you go to move sheep from one pasture to the next.

All Andrew has to do is walk into the field with his hat on, and the animals start to run over. It's the man with the hat. the man with the hat.

And where the man in the hat is, the food is also.