Hipsters Didn’t Make Beanies Cool
Hipsters didn’t make knit beanies cool, my dad did. Even in the sweltering Central Valley summer heat, as long as I can remember, he wore a beanie. I never thought it was odd. His ensemble of choice was his beanie, white T-shirt, torn blue jeans, and work boots. Yesterday our family laid him to rest in his “uniform.” He looked peaceful, comfy…beautiful. This was the photo we displayed next to him.
My dad wore a suit for church; that was the only day he was fancy. Every other day of the week his threads were the aforementioned threadbare duds, but he was the same man inside, everywhere he went.
My dad loved (LOVED) German Shepherds. His last one, Foxy, died a few months ago. At the graveside yesterday, as our family members we were seated in the front row, and beginning that portion of the service, a stray German Shepherd suddenly charged directly over to our front row. He actually tried to climb on top of me (a good portion of him succeeded). Then he laid his body at my feet, which were inches from Dad’s white casket. There he stayed during our graveside service for the beautiful man in the beanie.
Thank you to all those who contributed to the service. The words, the songs, the love. Thank you to all those who contributed to Dad’s life, those who saw, loved, and honored him. Even that very large river-water-matted German Shepherd who got me a little less fancy and a little more dirty. More like my dad. I’ll take that.