It was one of those moments when I wished I could get a picture. I was driving and alone in the car, so that would have been unsafe, and in any case, impossible to get a good angle.
There was a bright red MAGA hat sitting on the highway this morning, in between lanes of traffic. It had not yet been crushed; cars were avoiding it as one might try not to run over a dead squirrel or a large piece of tire from an 18-wheeler.
I live in Massachusetts. We don’t see a lot of MAGA hats. Trump bumperstickers and banners, occasionally, but few hats. Some months ago, on the highway, a car beeped at my husband and me as it passed, and the driver waved a sign made from a Trump sticker. Our reaction was probably not was he was going for. We laughed at him and figured he was reacting to the Elizabeth Warren sticker still on our car from the early days of her first Senate campaign. Way to own the Libs, dude!
The MAGA hat on the highway was the kind of randomness I love, like seeing a soccer ball up against the Jersey barriers or a single shoe on the road. How did they get there? In my old home town, a lone demonstrator spent the better part of an afternoon on the town Green holding a large sign that read “The Wrecking Ball LOST!” What was the story behind that?
More than likely, the reality of the hat was that it simply blew unnoticed out of the back of someone’s pickup truck. Maybe its owner will miss it, maybe not. But I like to imagine there’s more to the story.
Picture two people in a truck. Perhaps they argued about the impact of Trump’s tariffs on the construction industry, their livelihood. In a fit of frustration, one snatches the hat from the other’s head and throws it out the window to the road below.
Or perhaps a daughter stole it from her father, whom she lost months ago to the treachery of FOX News. This small act of rebellion won’t bring her father back, but as she tosses the hat gleefully on to the highway, she imagines her father spending half a day looking for it instead of watching TV; a temporary victory.
The best scenario though, is an epiphany on the part of the owner himself about the meanness of our times and Trump’s leading role within it. Unable to continue tolerating the deliberate and gleeful cruelty of Trump and his Wormtongue advisor Stephen Miller, he pitches the hat into oncoming traffic to be run over as Trump himself has done to so many.