Before I begin, I MUST HAVE this bandana. Or one like it.
I already have several bandanas.
But none with BLING.
My first glimpse of a bedazzled bandana came during Season One of The Gilmore Girls, only I wasn’t as bandana-crazy as I am now. In the episode, Lorelai wore one like this.
I need one.
It’s funny. I started wearing bandana’s when my short hair would get too bushy and I couldn’t afford a cut. I moved on to using them when I didn’t wash my hair. Now, it’s a sign that I am either going to work out, or have recently finished (showered, hopefully) and rather than do the whole “hair thing”, I simply tie one of these gizmos on and run out the door.
I’ve gotten eye rolls, stares, snickers, and glares. I’m not sure why it causes such a commotion.
One afternoon, while sitting in MY seat at Kolache, for yes, I deem it so – now that I am in a season of my life where I can actually hang out there alone – (“this is Mommy’s special place”, states my son), a darling older man struck up a conversation with me.
“I like that bandana.”
“You do? Really?”
“Yes. It’s unique. I like it.” Pause. “Whatcha’ doing there?”
I proceeded to share with him that I was writing my piece for Pittsburgh Mom.
He shared with me that prior to retirement he had thoroughly loved his job as an accountant. He had some advice for me.
“Do what you love.”
“Sir, I’m trying. I’m sincerely trying.”
We bumped into each other again at Kolache yesterday, me donning yet another bandana, and he, playfully pointing it out to me.
And then, today, at the seafood counter in Giant Eagle, there he was.
We laughed, shook hands and exchanged names. His? George.
“Perhaps one day you’ll actually get to see my hair done up all special.”
“I always see you in athletic-wear, do you work out?”
“What? (the bandana) Oh, yes. I’ve not worked out yet today, but I will.”
We parted ways and met up AGAIN in the check-out. Here, I learned more about him. Married 50 years and celebrating with his family this weekend. Greek descent. Works out at the YMCA.
“Listen, marriage is only good if both are working at it. It’s up. It’s down. It takes sacrifice. It’s not always a piece of cake.”
I told him that we would be celebrating 20 years in September.
“I wish you 30 more glorious years!”
Just a “chance” meeting, over a worn piece of colorful fabric that I frequently strap to my head.
I’m sure I’ll talk with George some more in the near future. And maybe, for a laugh, I’ll hand him a new bandana to give his wife, since he finds my look so fetching.