Cowboy Hat And Girls

When driving with my mom and stepdad 

in the Pontiac station wagon they owned in nineteen 

sixty-five I found myself among my sisters, three of them, 

on this long trip we took from North Little Rock Arkansas 

back to San Antonio and I was wearing a cowboy hat
made of felt that was, of course, for all young little
boy Texans from San Antonio, an absolute necessity
because our grandfathers wore hats like these everywhere
they went, taking them off whenever they entered a building
unless it was an ice house to grab a dr. pepper or a big red
because, well there is no place to hang a hat in an ice house,
I thought everyone knew that. So we were driving, to continue
my story, and girls can be such a pain for young boys
such as myself and usually I let them know it
to remind them that I needed none of their obnoxious
commentary especially concerning my cowboy hat that
apparently annoyed them to no end since
it was an extravagance of which they could not partake
as girls of the fairer sex not wanting to imitate their grandfather
in any way at all, not even to stop at the ice house for a big red
and some peanuts or a snickers bar or a powerhouse.
I am sure I did not understand them at all.
So they threw my hat out the back window.

Jim Hime ©2015