What do these things have in common?
Stetsons.
Eventually, the "pony" bit went away, because going up in the suburbs you learn that there is no way that you would be allowed to ride at break-neck speed through fields like National Velvet if a) there are no fields to begin with and b) there are no riding lessons available, and therefore no horse.
However.
The cowboy hat thing?
Didn't go away.
Not ever.
I wanted a Stetson. Not one of those plastic toy jobs either--a full-on leather job that I could wear whenever I wanted. If Annie Oakley and that one guy from Dr Quinn could sport one, why not me?
Truth be told, it wasn't just Dr. Quinn that got me into the "I want a cowboy hat" kick. It was also all those old westerns--"Westward Ho!", and "Seven Alone", and--in college--all the Jimmy Stewart Westerns that had me wanting something like that. Maybe I couldn't live like a cowboy, but I could sure look like one!
When I was sixteen, my family when to Yellowstone. During our souvenir shopping, my dad asked me what I wanted. My answer?
A Stetson.
And we found one.
A beautiful felt job that I wore the rest of the vacation--and subsequently lost during my move from home to my apartment four years later(but hey, I kept the thing for four years and I took pretty good care of it too!).
Flash forward to this past week. In Arizona, there is this town called Williams, which is the last town that was on the original Route 66(my cousin called it "Radiator Springs"--thank you, "Cars".)
And in this town, there was this shop.
And in this shop, there was a sale.
On Stetsons.
Leather Stetsons.
Goodbye souvenir money.
So yes, once again, I am the proud owner of a Stetson. A leather Stetson.
And this one I intend to keep, thanks very much!
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