My Lucky Hat

Lately, I've been wearing my Buffalo Bills hat almost all the time when I've been out doing things. I've called it my "lucky hat" on occasion, but those words seem to be ringing true now more than ever. It becomes an inadvertent conversational piece at bars, sparking conversations about sports fandom which I have never fully understood; Then again, a lot of people might find my passion for music or language equally hard to grasp. Regardless, I wear the hat for two reasons: I'm going bald and have been slacking on keeping my hair short, even though I was shaving it regularly for almost a year. Also, it's my brother's old hat, one of the surplus of Bills hats he owned, and may or may never have even worn when he was still alive. I'm really not sure. My brother and his death are a series of unfortunate circumstances, which I will elaborate on in another post, on another day....night....morning? What is 3am, really? What is it when you are up at this hour on a regular basis? What if you work night shifts, when you eat lunch at 2am and go to bet at 7am, is it really "good night" at all anymore?

But I digress. There may in fact be a third reason I wear my Bills hat proudly, but it is a culmination of the first two: It instills me with confidence. This is partially because the hair on the top of my head is jumping ship faster than a 3rd class immigrant on the Titanic, but also because I feel a sort of bond ethereal bond between the over-priced official sportsgear and my brother. Do I believe in the spirit, the soul, or the ability of treasured physical things to retain some essence or trace of the spirit? Metaphysics are another example of topics that are all too thick and absurd to fit into this entry. But what I can attest to is what I feel, and that is that wherever I go and whatever I do, I want to keep wearing my lucky hat, avidly support the losing side. After all, what is more appealing to the human spirit than an underdog?