And then he told me..."I hated that hat!". I couldn't believe it. After he had worked that hard & saved for no doubt several weeks or longer, he told me that he didn't even like it. I'm not quite sure what happened to make him change his mind, but the thrill of the conquest was gone. He had his hat but he didn't want it.
Perhaps he was a bit embarrassed to wear it around his friends. Maybe someone said something to him about it that made him feel bad. Or maybe, living in those days when nickels and dimes were so hard to come by, just maybe he felt like he could have spent his money on something for his family rather than himself. Because that is the way he lived. For others.
Once in a while when I think there is something that I want really badly for myself, I think about Dad's little hat story. I think I know the feeling. I've thrown so many dollars away over the years on trivial trinkets, that really don't amount to a hill of beans after I get them home. "Things" that used to be so important to me don't have quite the same value as they used to.