Old Hat, New Hat: Childhood Beach Bonds Remain

I’ve often shared that my brother and I were planning to write a book called Surviving the Perfect Childhood. Our time living at the beach on the Texas Gulf Coast was magical, and while my family are all gone now, those halcyon days remain in memory’s sharp focus and are the muse for many of my writings (see the end of the post for a few).

I’m not alone in this. I recently received a wonderful, delightful, surprising gift from a faraway friend from those days. The joy of shared reminiscence is difficult to describe—it is so validating to know that someone else views those times as treasures, too. I have his permission to share this story with you.

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It Started with a Facebook Message: “I need your mailing address”

My friend sent a Facebook message: “What’s your address? I need to send you something.”

Someone had created a fake account with my name a few months earlier, so I was wary.

“I need to verify that it’s you and not a BOT pretending to be you… what was the poem you recited for UIL in junior high? Or, what instrument did you play in band?”

He knew the right answers: Raggedy Man and sousaphone, respectively, so I sent along my address, pronto.

Then I went on a couple of business trips, and my personal mail piled up, unopened and unread. I got back from Rio on a Saturday in early April and finally got around to opening my mail and the mysterious package that had arrived.

A Trio of Gifts: A New Hat, a Letter, and a Haiku

I opened a small box and pulled out a blue ‘bucket hat’. I was confused because I hadn’t ordered anything like that from Amazon or eBay and wondered if it was delivered to the wrong address. But sure enough, there was Kim Glover and the correct address on the outside of the box, so it was definitely meant for me. I looked in the box again and found a letter wedged at the bottom. I took a picture of it today, the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, which we’re spending at Gumbo Cove.

Mark’s letter said:

Kim,

I saw this hat in a shop in Australia and was immediately transported back to Crystal Beach / High Island circa 1976. It's not exactly like the bucket hat you had back then but it's pretty close. Anyway, the nostalgia for those fun days with our group of friends still remains. I hope you wear the hat and it brings back the magic.

Your old friend,

Mark

And he ended the letter with a haiku (I LOVE LOVE LOVE haiku).

waves crash, laughter rings
blue bucket hat soars through time
sand fades, bonds remain

Moved to Joyful Tears

I was so astonished by this incredible gift of memories and regard that I was overcome by tears and speechless. The Grill-Meister came into the room and it took me a few minutes to stammer out why this was so special and meaningful. I’m still gobsmacked by the thoughtfulness and generosity of this gesture; it is such a gift to connect over shared memories and a shared sense of identity borne of those innocent and playful times we spent with our group of friends while growing up at the beach.

The Story of the Hat

The Photographic Evidence

I searched and searched, but couldn’t find a picture of me wearing the hat.

I found something better.

A picture of Mom in the hat, with my Dad, circa 1974.

Check them out in all their 70s wonderfulness, his big sideburns, and that cigarette in his had (Dad, what were you thinking!!!); her pigtails and Daisy Duke shorts. And the hat. The picture was taken at around the time we moved to the beach, when I was 10, and I think it’s in High Island.

I love love love this picture and the memories of that hat. And those wonderful people, my parents.

A Big Thank You

I told Mark:

My friend, you made me cry! I returned from Rio yesterday morning, all jet-lagged, and didn’t notice the package until the late afternoon. I was intrigued but a little confused until I found the letter – and wow, did it take me back. That’s one of the most meaningful gestures from a friend, EVER. I couldn’t find a pic of me in that wonderful old hat, but I did find one with my Mom wearing it (before I stole it from her), and your find was very close. I can’t thank you enough but will try to figure out a way. You brought me back to a time that still sparkles in memory, and I know it does for you, too. And adding a haiku was extra-special!

He responded that when he saw the hat, he “thought about how we used to throw the hat like a frisbee and just be free-willed kids coming into the world in a mostly innocent time.” He also noted that there are only a few of us left who have those specific memories.

He’s right.

You Have to Take This to Gumbo Cove!

I told my ‘sister’ this story at our very next Sandwich Wednesday, which she often joins us for, and she cried, too. It was a while later, but she also lived at the beach for a while after marrying my brother, and she carries her own memories of halcyon days spent with sandy feet, full hearts and the fresh salty smell of the sea.

I told her that Mark had graciously agreed that I could share this story here, and she said, “You have to take it to Gumbo Cove and get a picture of yourself in it there, since that’s where you reconnect the most with your beachy childhood.”

She was right. So here I am, glowing with memories and the bonds that remain. And gratitude for Mark’s thoughtful gesture.

The Perfect Childhood

I mentioned at the beginning of the post that my childhood at the beach is the source of so many of my posts and poems, so many that I can’t list them all, but here are a few, if you’re interested.

And there’s one more that ties Gumbo Cove to that ‘perfect childhood’.

By the Water: The Best Way to Relax (Introducing Gumbo Cove)

A Haiku for Mark

Mark’s haiku is ‘spot on’, as my UK friends day; the sand fades, but the bonds remain. Here’s a haiki in response to his.

bucket hat echoes
old laughter rides the salt wind
connected through time

Wishing you all the joy of your memories and connectedness with friends, as enjoy life in my quirky blue bucket hat. It brings back the magic!

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