My Old Man Hat

One Halloween while I was in High School, I wanted to dress up as a reporter. It wasn’t much of a stretch, since most of my high school years were spent pouring over the beleaguered high school newspaper. Plus, I already had the overcoat. All I needed was the fedora.

My grandfather wore fedoras. He had a whole bunch of old ones too. So I asked my grandmother if I could borrow one. She went and pleaded my case to my grandfather and he agreed to let me borrow it, as long as I took care of it.

But when he saw me, the day I dressed up, he said “That looks pretty good on you. Looks good on him doesn’t it mom?” (he called my grandmother mom, we were all sitting around the kitchen). “Well, you might as well keep it. I got my new one.” And then he left the kitchen. My grandmother’s eyes were as wide as I had ever seen them. He hardly ever gave anything away.

During the next two years of High School I frequently wore the hat, not just as dress up or as a prop. I was proud of it, partly because it was cool, and partly because my grandfather had given it to me.

I used it one time at a Grad social. I was the MC, and did a This Hour Has 22 minutes type routine with a friend of mine.

But I also performed this poem, with my hat. It was originally about how frustrated I was with the entire student body who was content to grumble and complain about the school, but not to speak out so people could hear them (i.e. in the student newspaper I edited). But it ended up being more about my grandfather somehow. More about how I felt like I imagined my grandfather feeling. And when I read it with his hat on, I felt at once proud to be like him, and scared I would end up like him.

Old Man In A Rocking Chair

I'm getting old you know
And it doesn't look that way
Because only yesterday I was young
But I know I'm old
I can feel it in my eyes
Soon I will be wearing brown pants
And complaining about my back

I'm going deaf you know
It happens to old people
They start to miss things
When I'm deaf
Will you hear for me?
Will you hear that music
That floats in the air
Waiting for MY ears?
Will you hear the screams
And listen to the whispers?
Even though you say you will
I know you won't

I'm going blind you know
It's part of being old
I can't read the writing on the wall
That has inspired me for so long
When I was young...
I can't see all the beautiful faces
Or even the ugly ones
I can't watch the fire dance
I will never see the clouds
Paint the sky....
Will you see for me?
No, you will not

I'm getting cranky you know
And no one listens
To a cranky old man
I used to know what to say
Articulate
I could explain to people
I know what they should do
I knew
And now I don't
Because I'm cranky
Will you speak for me?
No! Of course not!
You've never said a word in your life!
You just sit there
I know you see
And I know you hear
You just..

You see
I you I was cranky

I'm tired now
That's another part of being old
And I've got such a headache
I think I'll take a nap

(1994)