The Old Silk Hat, A Frosty The Snowman Prequel

by P. Edward Auman

July 11th, 1901

  Boston, MA

  A shorter, and much aged Julius sat on a park bench with his closest friend in all of Boston, the Jeweler whom had sold him the ring he gave to his beloved Katherine.

  "I thank you for the invitation, Albert. I shall of course attend," Julius said.

  "Wonderful!" the jeweler responded. "Elizabeth will be so very pleased."

  Julius gave Albert a knowing smile and said, "I suppose Elizabeth was well worth the wait you've had? She's seems a very loving woman."

  "But of course, my friend," Al replied. "A woman like Elizabeth and your Katherine are very rare. I suppose that's why I've always been a bit jealous that you and your lovely wife met so early in life while I waited. But none-the-less, Elizabeth was indeed well worth the wait."

  They continued smoking their cigars while they watched the vendor across the street serving some sort of sandwich contraption to any passers-by visiting Boston in the summer who were willing to sample the somewhat notorious local cuisine.

  "And to think," Albert continued, "to have two fine sons along in the deal!"

  Julius chuckled. "They seem like fine young men, too."

  "Oh! I do apologize, Julius!" Albert said as he turned to his good friend, his face an expression of deep concern. "I didn't mean..."

  "No, no," Julius held up his hand. "You mean nothing by it but joy. You enjoy it! A fine man as yourself deserves a family and, by one means or another, sons who can carry on his traditions."

  "I really am sorry, though, Julius," Albert said, not quite comfortable enough to return to his cigar. "I don't suppose..."

  "No. No," Julius replied, raising one hand. "It is not to happen. These many years and not nearly a sign of a child on the way. It is well enough. Katherine and I have had a wonderful marriage."

  Julius took another draw on his cigar. "No, Albert. I'll tell you what. We will revel in your own children, step, or otherwise. And we will remain happy together."

  "Very well, Jules," Al replied, and uncomfortably stuck his own cigar back into his mouth to take a calming draw himself. "But thank you again for agreeing to be there."

  "Of course." Then Julius, the hatter, removed from his head the very silk hat he'd crafted for his own wedding. "But there is a reason around this issue for which I've come to meet you today."

  "How's that?"

  "I want you to take this hat for your wedding. It is the very one I made when I wed dear Katherine," Julius said.

  He removed it from his head, and gently placed it upon the much taller head of his good friend next to him. He tapped the top slightly in good measure to make sure it was put right.

  "Thank you, Julius, but I don't think you should give up a keepsake from your own wedding!" Albert replied.

  Julius chuckled again. "Never return that hat to me, friend. I give it to you as a gift, and it was crafted with love. I think you shall find it gives you good luck... Although you may find you should be wanting a new flower for the brim there. Mine is a bit dry."

  They both laughed, and the jeweler accepted the gift. It did indeed grant him great luck. He and his new wife had another son and another daughter together to add to the two whom he later fully adopted. His business thrived and the oldest of his two step sons eventually took over the jewelry shop, continuing its success.

  The hat was stored in the shop in the back room near the cutters, as a daily reminder to Albert of his friend Julius, and of the great love he felt for Elizabeth on the day of his wedding and ever since.

  Julius eventually moved to a small shop in Gloucester, Pennsylvania after the passing of his only love in this life, Katherine.

  March 20th, 1923

  Gloucester Township, PA

  "Good day, sir!" said the handsome middle-aged man at the counter when Julius, the hatter, exited his sewing room and stepped up to service him. The hat upon his head was instantly recognizable and the hatter smiled pleasantly at the return of an old friend.

  "You must be one of Albert's, then, aren't you?" he asked.

  "I am indeed. You must likewise be Julius, the famed hatter of Boston proper!" the gentleman said jovially in return.

  "Indeed!" Still smiling, the old hat maker nodded at the taller gentleman's adornment on his head and continued, "That hat is very becoming upon your head,... er..."

  "David!" replied the visitor. "My name is David! And this hat is precisely why I pay you a visit now."

  "Oh is it!" the hatter breathed. He was hesitant but he'd hoped to hear it had brought a great deal of luck and love to Albert's family in the past twenty-two years. Perhaps, he thought, he has visited to ask my repair of it. I should so like to see it kept in good order.

  "Yes, indeed," David said, setting the hat upon the counter. "You see, I have put it to just as good a use as my father did, having only just been married in it."

  "Really!" exclaimed Jules, excitement shining upon his face.

  "Absolutely!" continued David smiling brightly in return. "And not only that, but my two younger brothers have wed prior to me as well, and each have worn it at their own weddings."

  Julius was ecstatic. Katherine would love to have seen it to this end, he thought. "Do tell!"

  Chortling, David continued his explanation of the hat's history since it left Julius' possession.

  "Why, my sister, Emily, might verily have worn it herself, had it been in fashion at all for a young lady!"

  Julius attempted the tuttering which his late Katherine was so skilled in doing coinciding with a smile.

  "I should say that would not be a very proper wedding had she so done!"

  Laughing, David agreed, and spent some time visiting and telling Julius about his family, and his apparently reckless, yet life-loving younger sister. He shared major events of the past two decades amongst the jeweler's family, the births, the adventures, and somewhat more somberly, even one death of a cherished nephew, one of Albert's grandchildren. Lastly, David shared how lovely the funerals for both of his parents in turn, Albert first, then Elizabeth, his mother, had been. He told Julius how he had worn the hat as a familiar representation to both and to his then married siblings in the last couple years. And lastly, he explained why he had worn it from Boston to come visit one of his father's best friends, whom he had spoken of frequently.

  "And so, Julius, if you do not mind, I have come to return the hat to you."

  Julius lifted the hat from the counter and turned it about in his hands. It had certainly been used, but it had been used well, and cared for. A small red carnation looked to have been recently pinned to it as well.

  "I can't do that," the hatter replied. "I gave it your father to be a permanent gift of friendship."

  He attempted to hand it back to David, but David in turn raised his hand.

  "You gave it to my father in friendship, but you also told him it would grant him great luck."

  Julius pulled the hat closer to his chest and remembered his own love, Katherine, and the care that went into the crafting of it.

  "My family has been greatly blessed by it on many occasions, hatter. I merely want to return the hat to its creator."

  "But why?" Jules asked, hesitantly raising it to his own head to experience it again and to test its feel.

  "Because...I believe there is no one better to find the right soul to be blessed by such a thing, than the one that gave it life."

  David smiled, gathered some of his belongings he had placed upon the counter while he shared time with Julius, and prepared to leave. At the door he smiled at the elderly gentleman turning over the old silk hat and examining its condition.

  "Find someone who will love it," David said from the doorway. And then he was gone.

  Unknown Date, Winter, 1925

  Gloucester, PA

  A tall gentleman wearing a black tuxedo and traveling cloak strolled across Church Street towards his intended destination in early winter following the first snowfall. On his wa
y a group of young boys following a single rider of a sort of rolling contraption made of a crate and board bumped into him at the north east corner and he unkindly cleared his way, shoving one of the children, a boy nick-named 'Ginger Jon', to the ground. Although he did not know it at the time, the magician's unkind act towards the boy would eventually provide a new home to the possession which had put him in such a fool mood.

  Once he had finally arrived at the small hatter's shop, the only one in Gloucester Township at the time, he burst through the doorway and interrupted a sale of an odd looking pink bowler to a young woman discussing the replacement of its green band as a requirement to conclude the sales contract. She was startled, but the wizened old man at the counter seemed content to allow the gentlemanly magician to perform his angry presentation.

  "Sir! You have cheated me!" he began.

  The woman curtly nodded to the hatter and indicated she would return later when they could discuss the terms of the sale more conveniently. She turned her scowl upon the magician as she exited the shop, but he was undeterred.

  "And how might that be?" asked the old hatter.

  "You sold me this hat on the pretext that it had real magic, yet it failed me utterly in the middle of my performance in New York City!"

  "Is that right?" The hatter was calm and hobbled around the corner of the counter as the would-be magician continued.

  "Of course it is right, for you are a deceiver and you knew this hat had no capacity to aide me in my business. Yet you mesmerized me into believing it had some sort of magical properties!"

  "Posh!" said the store-keep. "I never said such a thing."

  "Liar!" the magician practically screamed. His mother had never taught him temperament it would seem and the same tantrums he threw as a child enraged him in the hat maker's shop as well.

  "No. I'm afraid you misunderstood me...as I tried to warn you."

  "And how might that be?"

  "Well...for starters," began the old man, very close to the magician at that point, "I merely told you it was a lucky hat."

  "Rubbish!"

  "And I tried to tell you that the luck only works for one whose heart is open."

  Knowing he was reminded of fact, the magician calmed himself somewhat. "That you may have said, as I recall."

  "Your heart, sir, is certainly not open." The old hatter raised his palms up in gesture as if to receive the old silk hat upon the magician's head.

  "My heart is fully open! You insult me to assume any particular understanding of my emotions, and you deceive me to make me believe this hat could be beneficial to me."

  "Not at all, kind magician. I explained to you the conditions under which the hat would provide some...benefit, and I did, in fact tell you that you do not meet these conditions," the hatter continued.

  "Preposterous. If any soul should have a certain amount of luck or magic about him, it would be a practiced magician such as myself," the magician said smugly. "What is the meaning of your hands, sir?"

  "I mean to recompense you and accept that old silk hat in return."

  "Bah!" said the magician. He hesitated, and then asked, "Why would it not work for me?"

  The hatter dropped his hands folded before him again and asked, "Is there no one whom you love at this time?"

  The question was odd and it produced a stutter from the tall magician at first. His reply was not entirely clear, but essentially included the acknowledgement that he had no present relationship and that he could not see how that mattered.

  "No living parent? No sibling? ...No one whom you love?" asked the old hatter with piercing eyes.

  "Nay," replied the magician.

  The hat maker raised his hands palm-up once again. "Then you have not met the conditions which will provide you benefit from that hat. Now, if you wish, choose another, and I shall accept this one in exchange."

  The magician glared at the hatter for a moment. Then he removed the hat with much flare and placed it sharply upon the hatter's hands. He stormed from the shop, never to be seen again.

  As the hat maker ambled to a corner shelf in the sales and measuring room he spoke softly to the hat and tapped it for good measure. "I told you...it's not time yet. Back to waiting you go."

  May 15th, 1937

  Gloucester, PA

  Young Jonathon Smith, after three years of engagement to the beautiful, Samantha Gray, was going to wed. All had been arranged. All was perfect, except for one thing. He did not have a proper hat, never having been given one, nor having purchased one himself since he was a little scrunt on the streets of Philadelphia after the First World War. He had made much about himself in the following two decades, having apprenticed under a charitable master at wood craft. He'd recently opened his own shop and was hired to design and build the cabinets for a new venture in housing in Gloucester, meant to provide affordable living outside of the large metropolises of the east coast.

  A hat was the one final piece to the crafting of a fine marriage to Ms. Gray and the beginning of a wonderful family. A stop to the local Gloucester hatter was just the thing to conclude his week and complete the preparations for the wedding on Sunday. Unfortunately, the hatter had a bit of a reputation he'd earned by his eccentricity. He was commonly called by way of a popular story at the time: The Mad Hatter.

  Once inside the shop Jonathon found it a curious but calming and delightful environment. The walls and display shelves were all finely crafted Walnut with a near-black stain upon them. A pot-bellied wood stove burned in the middle of the sales and fitting room. Out of the back craft room stepped a wizened old man carrying a bowler hat, pink, with a green band upon it and greeted the young groom-to-be.

  Jonathon cocked and eye and thought perhaps he had indeed made a mistake in presuming this Mad Hatter could provide a suitable wedding hat.

  "Sir, I'm looking for a proper hat in which to be wedded this Sunday. Have you got something...er...appropriate for such an occasion in stock?" Jonathon began.

  Smiling the old man hefted the pink bowler onto a mannequin head and tapped the top of it with a crooked finger. "I suppose this doesn't fancy the colors for your wedding, does it?"

  "No, sir. I'm afraid it doesn't," Jon replied, again wondering if he'd made a mistake.

  "Well enough then, lad," came the reply as the old man hobbled to one of the back corners. "I can tell you are a good man, and I think I have just the right hat for a fine, future family man, such as yourself."

  The character seemed to be giggling to himself as he lead Jon to the intended hat. He picked up from a shelf a black, silk hat which appeared to have a thin layer of dust upon it.

  "This is the one which you will be wanting for a wedding to a fine young lady," he said, gesturing with the hat.

  Jonathon cleared his throat as he turned over the hat a bit. "This is a very fine hat, sir, you are correct. But..."

  "But?"

  "Well... I'm not positively sure this is the fashion of late for a wedding."

  "Oh, too be sure, I'm not concerned about fashion. Honestly," laughed the old man, "I thought I'd predicted the future by creating a pink bowler for women to wear! You don't see those much about town yet, do you?"

  "No, sir. I'm afraid I do not."

  "Well... You can look at these others. I'm sure any one of them would be fine. But this one is the hat for you if you don't mind me saying so."

  Jonathon nodded. He began poking through several of the other samples, all the while the old man smiled and nodded at him as he pretended to be busy about the displays on the other side of the room. Jon had very nearly decided upon a nice, dark-gray fedora when the old man had somehow craftily snuck up beside him again.

  "Shall I box it for you, or would you like to wear it out?" He cackled.

  Jonathon was a bit startled, but he wasn't sure yet how to respond. He kept trying to imagine himself standing next to Samantha at the pulpit wearing the fedora and knew it wasn't right. The picture th
at kept playing in his mind was of him wearing the old silk hat, with a red flower in its brim.

  "May I ask you, sir, why you felt the silken hat would be right for me?"

  The old hatter snatched the fedora from Jon's hands and hobbled over to his counter, secretly grinning as he was turned from the young groom.

  "Well, lad, that hat has been a good-luck hat for many a gentleman. When you walked in, it spoke to me and told me you were the next fine soul that could use a lucky hat."

  "Luck, you say?"

  Behind his counter the hatter began writing a receipt for Jonathon. But Jon placed his hands upon the counter folded together and cleared his throat. The old man stared up at him, a grin difficult to refrain.

  "I think I should like to purchase that silk hat, sir," Jonathon stated.

  The old man raised one crooked index finger in the air and replied, "A wise investment, young man!"

  As the hatter left the counter and went to collect the old silk hat Jonathon asked, "Investment, you say? I would not think of a hat as an investment."

  "No, I suppose you might not. But what if I told you there is no charge for this particular hat?"

  The old man had returned and was grinning from ear to ear as he held out the old silk hat. Jonathon cocked an eyebrow again, and hesitated before fetching the silken hat out of his hands. Just as he were about to place his hands upon the brim, the old man clutched it to his chest and began to hurry off into his back sewing room.

  "Ah! One moment, young man!" he said in a gruffy voice.

  "What is it?" Jon asked as he tried to peer past the swinging drapes blocking the doorway.

  Returning to the front with a couple pins in his mouth the old man placed the hat upon the counter and retrieved something from his coat pocket. It was a brilliant red carnation. He pinned it to the band just to the left side of the wearer.

  "Ah-ha!" The mad old hatter turned to Jonathon once again and extended the hat once more. "Now it's ready for a fine gentleman to wed a fine young lady."

  September 11th, 1946

  Philadelphia, PA

  Jonathon and Samantha had a little more than nine years together and a strapping young son, Daniel, before Sam had passed of rheumatic fever. The burial had been somber and Jonathon held his young son the whole time as the little boy asked if mother would come home soon. Jon had not been called to duty by draft during the war by virtue of having an injury to his knee sustained in his youth. It happened that a certain un-loving passerby who knocked him over in the heat of an angry moment while Jonathon was headed to school in Gloucester caused more damage to the young boy’s leg than even he would have wanted to have caused.

  Through their marriage they had worked together to build a fine woodshop in Philly. They had also built their own home together and it was full of finely worked oaken wainscoting and a coffered ceiling. Samantha often commented that their home was the most beautiful place she'd ever had to visit and was glad that she would not ever have to end their stay in it. They agreed their honeymoon hotel room in New York was not so finely finished as their front parlor had been, and it was a great source of pride for Jonathon that his wife reveled in his work.

  In turn, Jonathon often boasted about town of what a wonderful mother Samantha was and that she had crafted the most handsome child he'd ever had opportunity to lay eyes upon. At times this was followed by a short apology and acknowledgement to some parent or other that of course that was barring their own wonderful progeny. But most people in their parish knew Jon only had eyes for two people in the world, and they most certainly weren't for anyone outside of his own front door.

  It happened though, that while Mr. Gray had been seen during their wedding nudging one of his own sons standing next to him and pointing at the old silk hat Jonathon had chosen for the wedding, Samantha had lovingly kept absolutely quiet on the topic… until they arrived at their honeymoon suite. It was only then, out of earshot and site of anyone else behind the closed door that she giggled and asked, "What on earth possessed you to purchase that old silken hat?"

  Jonathon's smile faltered bit in the moment. "Why do you say it so, dear?"

  "Well," she smiled, replacing it upon his head from where he'd set it down. "It is very becoming...but don't you think it's a bit old-fashioned?"

  "Well, of course it is. But..."

  Jonathon hadn't been quite sure how to explain to Samantha how he'd come to purchase it, or rather, to receive it free of charge, two days earlier.

  "But what?" Sam asked.

  "But...it sort of called to me, I suppose."

  "Is that right?"

  "Yes it is!" Jon said emphatically and kissed her properly on the mouth with his hat still perched on his head. "It's a lucky hat a friend gave to me."

  Samantha smiled and her love of her new husband gleamed in her eyes. "Well then, I want you to wear it in all the proper occasions!"

  And he did.

  Jonathon had worn the old silk hat from 1937 through 1946 on all the appropriate occasions and sometimes when it was perhaps inappropriate. He had worn it when they opened their shop together. He had worn it when they went to his in-laws for holiday. He had worn it on certain occasions at the table when he felt he needed the extra luck at a hand of poker. And he had even worn it when his newborn son was handed to him in the summer of 1942.

  And in September of 1946 he had worn it to the funeral and then the burial of his beloved wife. From her large, mixed bouquet of flowers upon her casket he retrieved a single red carnation and pinned it into the band on the old silk hat while he said his final farewells.

  When Jonathon returned home he laid his fast-asleep son in his bed while wearing the old hat, and then retired to his own room. There he retrieved an old hat box he'd picked up somewhere along the way during the past nine years and placed the hat inside it. Gazing upon it before sealing it up, he kissed his finger tips and touched them to the hat.

  "Goodbye, my Samantha. I love you," he said, and he retired it to his bedroom shelves for next few years.

  December 14th, 1949

  Philadelphia, PA

  Jonathan's then seven-year-old son, Daniel, arrived home from school full of mirth and glee. He had news that at the end of the week his first grade teacher, Mrs. Beauregard, would be holding a Christmas party during which they would sing three Christmas songs to the kindergarteners. When Mrs. B had asked which songs they would sing, of course the standards of O Holy Night and Carol of the Drum (which one kid said was actually called The Little Drummer Boy) were chosen. But most exciting of all was that Mrs. B liked Daniel's suggestion that they sing his new favorite song. He'd heard it sung by Gene Autry on the radio just the week before: Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer. He'd already thought of some extra little lines he could throw into the lyrics to help liven it up a bit too. Parents were invited and he could not wait to have his father listen just before the holiday break from school.

  Daniel found Jon home a little early from the shop and told him of the wonderful opportunity to hear him sing. Smiling, Jonathon promised his little boy that he wouldn't miss the rendition for anything in the world. Full of a glass of milk and some bread with jam they had received from their neighbor and Daniel's 'foster' mother, Mrs. Caversham, the bouncy and excited boy put on his galoshes and mittens while his father re-wrapped the scarf around his neck. The screen door slammed wide open as Dan hopped outside and met a pair of friends in front of his home to build 'the greatest snowman ever'.

  Jon busied about the house putting away the normal wall hangings and things his wife had collected before she had passed away just three years earlier and began putting up their treasured Christmas decorations. The first year Samantha was gone it was very difficult for Jon to celebrate, though he did his best at the time to provide gifts and merriment for little Dan. But since then, during the past two seasons, the decorations were yet another way for Jonathon to honor his late wife.

  Outside the asse
mbly of the snowman proceeded quickly. Jon took a quick glance out the front door and saw that the children had disposed of the traditional three round balls forming the bottom, middle and head of a snowman in favor of a gigantic single roll for the body and a smaller ball for the head. One of the three children had gone about making a log shape of snowpack and was attempting to attach it to the side of the body to form an arm, while Daniel and the little neighbor girl, whom Jonathon recognized as Charlotte, struggled to lift the head upon the body. The third child stopped what he was doing and helped. Having hefted the head upon the oversized body all three collapsed into the snow. While Jon secretly wished he'd thought to get out the old Argus C3 camera his father-in-law had given him when Jonathan and Samantha had married, he watched the children make snow-angels.

  A short while later, Daniel burst into the kitchen and said, "Dad! Have we got any carrots?"

  "For a nose?" Jon smiled.

  "Of course! Have we any?"

  Jon went to the pantry but found not a one left on the back shelves where they were usually kept nice and cool. Daniel pouted.

  "We need something, Dad!" he said.

  Jon thought for a moment with his finger upon his chin. Then he went to the cupboard where mother had kept a few mending supplies. There in a tin can, Jonathon found a very large, black button which had been removed from a winter coat he had from his youth. Samantha had cut it up and kept some of the buttons and made a scarf for Jon to wear down to the shop.

  "Will this do?" he asked his son.

  Daniel whooped and snatched it from his father's hand, dashing outside again. "It's perfect, Dad!"

  Before Jon could even spend enough time to fold the lids closed on the decoration boxes he'd unpacked and turn to store them back up in the attic, Daniel burst through the door again.

  "How about some more buttons for eyes, Dad?"

  Thinking for a moment again, Jonathon replied, "How about you take two of those pieces of coal from the fireside there?"

  "Perfect, Dad!" the little boy yelled again and out he went.

  A few seconds more and the boy was back at his father's side looking for something to be used as a mouth. Jonathon's eyes perused the various shelves in the kitchen, happening upon the ones with collections of items he knew he would likely never use again, but which he couldn't throw away just the same. There he spied the little corn-cob pipe he'd made one October while sitting on the porch with his Samantha, awaiting the birth of their first and only child, Daniel. He smiled for a few seconds at his memory and then picked it up.

  "This will make for a very special mouth," he said to Daniel.

  Dan wrinkled his nose and cocked his head. "That's not a mouth...it's just something you stick in your mouth."

  "That's right," Jon laughed. "And you usually pucker your mouth to hold it too!"

  He demonstrated with the corn-cob jutting out to the side of his mouth a bit.

  "See? It might not be the mouth, but it definitely tells you he has one, now doesn't it?"

  "Oh..." Dan contemplated. "I see."

  Dan took the pipe and turned it over in his hands.

  "Did you make this, Dad?"

  "Yes I did! While I was bored waiting for the stork to bring you."

  "Oh..." Daniel let out a small breath of exhilaration. "So mother was with you when you made it?"

  "Yes, son, she was." Jon tried very carefully to not let Daniel see his eyes well up.

  "Well that makes it very special, then, doesn't it?" Dan asked.

  "Indeed it does! Take care to store it carefully once you're done with it."

  "Of course, Dad!" the little boy yelled and grinning he was back out the door.

  Before the next return from the little boy, Jonathon had been able to store a couple of decoration boxes and was hanging up a wreath on the outside of the front door. Daniel's approach was a little slower on that visit into the house.

  "What's wrong?" asked Jonathon.

  "I need a hat...but I'm not really sure I've got one. I've only got caps," the boy replied.

  "Well... Perhaps you could find one in the hall closet? I can't always recall where I've stored things."

  While father continued to place decorations, son found that there were no hats in the hall closet. But he did recall seeing a very fine hat in his father's bedroom once. He stole to the bedroom and pulled out a large box. Lifting the lid off Daniel saw the top crest of a very fine, and very old looking black, silk hat. He pulled it out and there was upon the brim, pinned to the band, a preserved red carnation.

  "Perfect!" the boy whispered.

  As the boy walked through the living room towards the front door again, Jonathon stepped in from the kitchen drying a glass he'd been washing. When he saw the hat he paused and placed his hands together over the glass at his front. Daniel in turn paused, looking at his father, sensing that perhaps he'd decided upon the wrong hat after all.

  "What have you got there?" Jonathon asked.

  "It's...a hat," Daniel fidgeted.

  "Yes, I suppose it is," Jonathon pondered the situation for only a moment, but then came to a conclusion quickly. "I suppose you intend to crown your magnificent snowman with that hat, don't you?"

  Dan's eyes glanced down and attempted to avoid the stern look he felt he was about to get.

  "I...thought it would be perfect," he mumbled.

  Jonathon dropped down to one foot and a knee to bring his height more in line with the youngster.

  "I think you were right."

  Daniel looked up and smiled. There was something in his father's face that warmed him.

  "But do you know what that hat is?"

  Daniel shook his head quietly.

  "That is the hat in which I married your mother."

  While both smiled, and yet both wiped at small tears on their cheeks, Jonathon explained to Daniel as much of the history of the hat that he could recall in a few short minutes. When he finished telling Daniel the hat's story he asked him to wait a moment while he retrieved his own coat. Then, together, father's arm around son's shoulder, they stepped out into the bright sun and reflecting snow to a pair of impatient children awaiting them. Several other children from the neighborhood had stopped their own snowmen, sledding and snow fights long enough to visit and compliment the snowman in Jonathon Smith's yard to observe the final crowning of their creation.

  And when the old silk hat was placed upon Frosty's head he neither immediately began to dance around, nor did he spout some silly phrase such as: "Happy Birthday" or "Dobroye Utro". Frosty simply smiled at the children who were startled at first as life first sparked into his eyes, and then turned to face Jonathon.

  His budding pudgy legs crunched the snow with the weight of the rotund little snowman's belly as he moved over to Jon and placed one thick and rounded hand upon Jon's shoulder. His first words were a quiet, "Thank you."

  Jonathon stumbled his response at first but finally asked, "For what?"

  "For sharing your life with me for a while," the snowman said, and then grinned.

  Then he turned back to the children, lifted and placed Daniel on his shoulders and asked them all, "Who would like to ride my back on a belly ride down the hill?"