Once while on vacation we finally visited a far-away, not-on-the-way-to-anywhere kind of place we had been wanting to visit for years. It’s one of those destinations you see a sign for on a freeway but it’s too far off the exit so you keep passing it by, wondering what it’s like while pushing it off until some magical future trip when you’ll have the time. I actually started thinking we would never see this place and then one day such a magical opportunity presented itself. We were visiting family in another state and this was along the half way point. We had enough extra time for the couple of hours of extra driving that would be required and frankly wanted to see something different for a change. The side trip was wonderful and we enjoyed it thoroughly, including a meal at a nearby restaurant that served us food the locals probably enjoyed regularly. We soaked the area in and savored its flavors. I had been taught to not wear a hat at a table and to not put a hat on a table you’re eating off of, so out of habit I removed mine and placed it on the seat next to me. I distinctly remember pulling the chair out a little to help me remember it was there. It was one of those metal chairs that formed a pattern small food could fall through, the durable kind you can hose down after a messy barbecue. This hat of mine was one of my favorites because it fit me so well and it looked good on me, I think. It’s was a ball-cap made by Nike with the logo of the company I work for across the front, dark blue with white lettering. The sky threatened rain that day and much of our visit was outside so I grabbed the hat from the car and wore it all afternoon to keep sun and/or rain off my face. I leave this hat in our car specifically for this purpose. It wasn’t raining when we left the restaurant. We simply hopped in the car and drive a long, long way, until almost lulled into a trance from the rhythmic sound of our tires hitting the seams of the concrete road, a memory jogged lose and fell into my consciousness. Did I pick up my hat? I had a lot of time to think about it because we were too far to turn around. Maybe I put it in the pocket of my jacket or in the trunk. I would look when we arrived at our next stop. I thought of options in case it was left behind. I could call to see if they found it and would ship it to me or I could consider it lost. Would I be okay with that?
Fast forward a few days. I didn’t put it in my jacket or the trunk. Thankfully the restaurant did find it and was happy to ship it to me. I uncharacteristically gave the girl on the phone my credit card number so their shipping department (they have a mail order business) could send it to me. I asked that they not invest much into protecting the hat since it was flexible, suggesting they use a simple shipping envelop, like the Tyvek ones the post office uses. She said someone from shipping would call me to explain the charges. Three days later a package arrived – a nicely packed and protected box. My hat was nicely wrapped in protective paper. In the box was an invoice for $18, already charged to my credit card. My free company hat cost me $18. Had I known how much it was going to cost to ship this free hat to me, I may have been willing to let it go. It got me to wondering, how much would something have to be worth for me to rescue it? Is replacement value the only consideration? No. I’ve had this hat for years and there’s something about it that made me feel bad about abandoning it far away. It had ridden on top of my head for some neat activities over the years. I know it’s just an inanimate object but I liked it a lot so it was worth more to me than it would have been to anyone else.
Next time I think I’ll attach it to a belt loop at a restaurant but for now I’m going to wear it around for a while. It feels good to have it back.