Stupid Discoveries: the Hat

Originally published elsewhere 7/18/08

As children we long to be adults, to have our act together, to have permission to do what we want. We grow up and find out that yes, we can do pretty much what we want; and that "what we want" includes acts of breathtaking stupidity. A ruined marriage or so and a fistful of substances abused, wisdom makes itself known through its absence. Perhaps in older age we will get our act together.  

I am the last to deny that there are a plethora of acts in which I know now not to engage, although the majority of the more tantalizing are no longer available to me anyway. Still, one hopes for the day when somehow your background level of personal stupidity will drop off and you can at least save the time involved in recovery. Alas, this is not to be. There seem to be items of every conceivable level involved in what used to be called "the human condition." This includes very simple things like discovering that wearing a broad-brimmed hat with a ventilated crown makes working in the sun so much more comfortable. A discovery made, I should add, in my sixth year of working in the sun. The human condition, that utter cluelessness, ineptitude and malevolence in our nature that limit any true accomplishment. Substitute whatever. Situation normal, Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition as my father's contemporaries, that Greatest Generation, were fond of putting it. And Kilroy was here.  

This Summer is not less hot than the last several. It is my discovery that wearing a hat makes mid-day more tolerable that is new. What new continents will I drift to next? Siesta?  

Knowledge and experience are very different things. You can know the truth of a proposition because it is part of your cultural package, education and all. But it is experience that teaches you to invoke that knowledge in time to save yourself yet more discomfort. It takes more than one second degree burn to remind you to avoid touching hot things. Alas, experience never seems to catch up with knowledge. If there is any convergence it is well beyond senescence and death.  

I have explained to novice sailors, embarrassed over their clumsiness, that the only thing that really separates us is that I have made every conceivable mistake any number of times. So get on with it. Mess up. You gain sure-footedness by stumbling. There are an infinite number of ways to stumble, both large and small. They are only variations on how gravity taught you to walk. The sea will always find some way to knock you to the deck.  

My oldest son asked me for a new holiday gift suggestion this year and in a burst of originality I asked for a hat. I had something in the line of a pith helmet in mind. What I received was not simply a hat but a selection of hats. Shopping on the internet uncovers variety which defies choice. I have been wearing the $4.00 straw-and-canvas model I picked up at Wal-Mart, of course. But I have worn the others sailing and can testify to their grace and utility. Perhaps once they are properly beaten up I will wear them for work, when I most need them.

 

One's act never comes together. It may get good enough to gain the respect of amateurs over some limited range of activities, but it will never fool another professional. And it will never be up to your own standards. Your baseline aptitude for simple error will remain intact. Like our humble boats, we operate at the limits of our capabilities.