Posting Date: August 2, 2008
Somewhere between Cheech and Chong with a White Sox cap
Hats went out of fashion a long time ago. My dad used to wear a gray fedora, when he traveled to and from work back in the 50s and 60s.
I bought one, when I first entered journalism covering Chicago City Hall, but I didn't wear it long.
Hats are not a tradition these days in American culture, except, maybe, "baseball" type caps that have something written on the front, and not always baseball team names. It's "fashionable." Or maybe a fad. Or possibly, a statement of politics. Or, if you wear it off-center and turned and are walking in Chicago, it could also be a statement about which street gang you are in.
I got a cap recently. It was given to me when I graduated from the FBI Citizen's Academy, an advisory group that supports the FBI which celebrated 100 years last month. Dark blue almost black with the big yellow letters that spelled out "FBI" right on the front. It even had a stripe of the American flag along the brim. An official FBI hat. Not a fake FBI hat that you might buy in a novelty store. It even has a brass FBI buckle in the back to adjust the rim size.
So, I figured. Okay. This one, I'll wear. And I did wear it, Saturday. It was a windy and hot day when I took my son to the Guitar Center on Cicero Avenue in Burbank.
That's where I reminisce about my days playing lead guitar in a local band at Reavis, Bogan, Evergreen Park and Oak Lawn high schools in the early 70s. And even at Burbank grade schools like at Tobin. I bought my first and third Gibson Les Paul there, and my Cry Baby wah wah pedals, too, back when the store was on 83rd Street before moving last year north of 79th Street on
Cicero.
And we were walking around and a kid came up to me wearing his own hat and asked, "Hey man. Are you in the FBI?"
"No," I said.
"Well, then, why are you wearing that hat? You an FBI agent or something?"
I'd say his speech was easier to make out than a drive-through speaker at McDonalds, but not as clear as a crier at an auction. Somewhere between Cheech and Chong.
"Have a great day. Dude!" I said and turned to look at some guitars with my kid.
"Seriously, man. You in the FBI?" He persisted.
I looked at the guy and immediately sized him up.
"You're wearing a White Sox cap. You play for the White Sox?" I asked.
"No," he laughed. "I don't play for the White Sox."
"So why you wearing the White Sox hat?"
"I'm a Sox fan."
"I can tell," I continued. "I'm an FBI fan."
Here I am with my seven year old and I have to meet a White Sox fan with no IQ. Although, that's kind of an oxymoron, isn't it? I mean, let's face it. White Sox fans are "sout side," after all. Not like Cubs fans.
"Don't you like the White Sox?" he asked.
"Yea. I love the Sox. They made the World Series. Maybe the Cubs will make it too," I said.
That provoked a mocking laugh, the kind of sound a horse makes gagging on drugs injected into its system just before a mob controlled horse race.
"Hey. At least my hat supports a good institution."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
I didn't think he'd understand.
"Let me ask you a question. You got a shirt on that has a name on it. Konerko. Is that your name?"
"No. That's the name of the . "
" ... The first baseman for the White Sox. Even a Cubs fan knows that," I interrupted him.
"Okay."
"Okay? Well, are you Paul Konerko?"
"No. But I wish I were."
"So why you wearing that shirt? Your wife named Jennifer?"
"I ain't married."
"And I'm not J. Edgar Hoover either," I said and quickly changed the subject. "You play guitar?"
"Yea," he said.
"Let me ask you another question. What is the color of a Gibson SG?" I asked.
He thought for a moment, and then said, "Black."
Just what I thought. A phony Sox fan and a phony guitar player. Gibson SGs are Deep Cherry Red. He should know that before walking around the Guitar Center in a White Sox hat and jersey pretending to be Paul Konerko. I adjusted my FBI hat and raised my chin and walked off with the kid, who had no idea what the heck either of us were talking about.
"Can I play the drums?" my son asked.
"You a Sox fan, too?" I asked.
(Ray Hanania is an award winning columnist and author. He can be reached at www.themediaoasis.com.
Serving readers in Orland Park, Tinley Park, Frankfort, Mokena, Palos
Park, Palos Hills, Palos Heights, Oak Lawn, Burbank, Bridgeview.
