Tales from the O-NO Ranch 8-31-09 | TheFencePost.com

Tales from the O-NO Ranch 8-31-09

Mad Jack Hanks
Wellington, Colo.

Cowboys, at least most of the cowboys that I have ever been around take a lot of pride in their hats, boots and saddles. Too many of them have allowed their wives to wear lesser clothes so they could be Peacock proud of their lids and boots. I have always liked the way a cowboy hat looked on me. For one thing, it covers up that balding dome and at the same time gives me that cowboy look. I have a good many hats. I have straw hats for the summer work, and play and felt hats for work and play in the winter months. At one time I could afford to have my hats custom made as well as my boots. Not so much any more. I just buy off the rack and this brings me to my story for this week and I will warn you, it’s a little weird!

As most of you know I go dancing a couple of times a week and have many friends that I meet and visit and dance with at our gathering place. There’s this one feller that seems to want to bring out the worst in me at every opportunity. You know the guy, he drives a Corvette in order to impress the girls and it just don’t seem to work for him. All that said, I think that he’s an OK feller most of the time when he’s not in the business of messing with me. Well, he plops down beside me the other night and starts a little routine of mild aggravation as a young woman approaches my table and sits down to visit for a moment. Now, I’m wearin’ a typical straw hat with a four inch brim, with a black border.

“That’s a really nice hat, Jack, is it new?” she asked. Hot rod reaches up and flips the back of my hat down over my eyes. I do my best to remain calm.

“Oh no, I’ve had it for a while, it’s just another hat, nothing special about it,” I offer.

Hot rod, flips my hat down over my eyes again. This time I turn and give him a look that sez, “Don’t do that again!”

As the young lady and I continue our conversation he flips my hat again. I flip this time and come out of my chair and made war on this feller before he knew what was happening. I was embarrassed that I lost my cool and wasn’t able to just let it go. Most city folk and this feller is your typical “yuppie”, just don’t get the connection of cowboys and their hats. Things settled down and I apologized for jumpin’ on this feller and apologized for scarin’ the little lady.

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The next morning I go to the T Bar for coffee, wearin’ the same hat and Sir William sez, “That’s an unusual lookin’ hat, is it new?”

“Don’t start in on my hat Bill,” and I went on and explained what had happened the night before. This is the weird part. I go on to Wally World to pick up a few things and as I’m pushing my cart towards the door an elderly couple stops right in front of me with their cart.

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” I offered.

The little ole lady with the sweetest smile said, “We saw you over in aisle 10.”

“Yes, I do believe that we did meet over there,” I shot back. I noticed her husband began to move away.

She leaned closer and said, “I just wanted to reach up and FLIP YOUR HAT.”

Taken back I asked her if they were in the cafe this morning and overheard my conversation about my hat. She had no idea what I was talking about.

“Well, then you were at the dance hall Saturday night and saw that I was havin’ a little problem?”

“No, I don’t know about that either, I just wanted to flip your hat but I really wasn’t gonna’ do it!”

I smiled and with a totally bewildered look on my face made my escape. Is that not weird? I ask you. That particular hat just must be a “flippin’ good hat, but please, “DON’T MESS WITH MY HAT!”

Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion and I’ll c. ya – if my hat’s not down over my eyes.