I am not sure how the hat fits into my growing suspicion that a surprise party is planned for my next birthday. Maybe it is just a classic use of misdirection on Judy’s part. Or maybe it is a poltergeist. Maybe I am just crazy. And it could be a combination of the three. How does a hat I have not worn in ten years or touched in, I don’t know how long, have anything to do with a surprise party? I will get back to the hat later.
I have mentioned before that I have a birthday coming up soon. And I am fine with that. I am also fine with the fact that, most of the time, nobody remembers it or acknowledges it beyond the occasional card or phone call. Over my lifetime, I have had plenty of time to get used to missed birthdays.
Ten years ago, Judy planned a surprise party for my fiftieth. And it worked. I did not suspect a thing. Well, maybe at the last minute or so, I started to suspect when I recognized a couple of cars in the restaurant parking lot where we were supposed to have a quiet dinner together.
It could have been an episode of the old television show, “This Is Your Life,” or maybe the Dean Martin Roasts of the 70’s, but without the insulting comments. She had found people I have known from every part of my life, both major and minor players from my past and present. Somehow, she had found them and gotten them all together in one place at the same time. Surprise!!!! It was perfect. Then.
It was perfect to have that one-time event; however, I never saw any of the party-goers after. And truthfully, it was the last time I had seen or even heard from some of those people. Why try to duplicate perfection? You do not do an updated version of “It’s a Wonderful Life.” That is one argument I could have given her when she mentioned a month or so ago that she wanted to do a surprise party for my sixtieth. You realize, of course, if I know about it, it sort of ruins the surprise? She did, but she also said she needed my help to pull it off at all, surprise or not.
She promised it would be a small number of our closest friends. By then, she had come up with a list of 15. I tried to talk her out of it. I am not sure I can handle the stress of a large group at this point, friends or not. She assured me it would be fine and I should not decide yet. She said, “Sleep on it and tell me tomorrow.”
Well, by “tomorrow,” I was even surer I did not want to do it, no matter how few people were on the list or how they fit into the continuum of my friends. I had decided to tell her to stop planning the party, no matter the size, when she brought it up again. By then, the number of invitees had jumped to more than 30. “I thought of a few more people to invite,” she said. I said that I really did not feel up to 15, and now, at 30 or more, it really was not any better for me. After a long talk, I thought I had gotten through to her that I was not the same person I used to be. I thought the surprise party idea had died. And, it still may be dead.
But I have noticed a few things that made me wonder. For one thing, she has not mentioned the idea again, and it is unlikely that she would give up on something like this. There are phone calls she is hiding from me. I have walked in on conversations she has had, and all participants have quickly stopped talking and looked up at me, as if caught stealing cookies from a cookie jar. I have overheard phone calls about ice cream and restaurants. The list goes on.
Then there is the hat. I promised I would get back to the hat. Like I said earlier, I have this hat I have not touched in several years. I do blow the dust off when I think of it, but I stopped wearing it long ago. It was never the right size, and it felt funny to wear.
I had been out on a weird Sunday errand, which also made me suspicious, since it is a day I usually stick around the home unless we both go out for some reason. When I returned, I went in to change back into my lounging-around-the-house clothes. I picked up a T-shirt to wear, and the hatband of the hat in question fell on the floor at my feet. It seemed so out of context, I did not recognize it at first. The hat usually stays on the top of a hat rack next to the bed. It would be virtually impossible for it to jump off the hat and over to the floor on its own. Yet, there it was at my feet.
I looked at the hat and noticed it did not seem to be exactly in the same spot it had been. I know, how can I be sure it had been moved if I have not touched it recently? I am not sure I have a good answer. It just looked wrong. It was turned slightly from its original position. You notice small things like that when an item hasn’t moved for a long time.
I have to guess that the hat was removed, turned upside down over my clothes, and that the hatband fell off onto my T-shirt, unnoticed by whoever flipped it. Replacing the hat, they also did not notice the missing hatband or that, when replaced, the hat was rotated just a bit from its usual placement.
I know who did it. I just do not know why or how it relates to the possibility that a party is planned. But I have to conclude that the hat means something.
Yep, I go for the “crazy” conclusion too.
Memory is the Key 