Red Hatters are Mad Hatters

June McDonald was 92 and was tired of those Red Hatters and their infuriating flamboyance. There was a whole club of them at the “Changing Seasons” assisted living home where she lived.

June thought they were like a parade of clowns every Thursday when Ceci, the twenty something activities director organized their meetings.

“Here’s a hat for you June!” Ceci cried in that sing song voice reserved for toddlers and the elderly. She tried to place a red feather fascinator on June’s head.

“Get that dead bird away from me!” Cried June, “I’d rather walk naked in a snow storm than have that monstrous peacock on my head”

Her friend Bette Medaro had at least 10 hats of red and/or purple and insisted on wearing them each day in succession.

Take that thing off, Bette” June grumbled over lunch one day. “You look like a grape had a baby with an abortion.”

“It’s a statement June! Haven’t you ever read the purple hat poem?” Bette said defiantly pulling the hat down on her head. The artificial red carnations jiggling on the brim.

Oh June had heard of the poem. "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple / With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me" It had turned her retirement home into a fiesta of giggling seenagers ready to do crazy games meant for 3 year olds and wander around getting tickets from the fashion police.

Why would she want to wear a loud and offensive color on her head that emphasized her wrinkles and created reflections like bruises under her eyes? If she wanted to look older and sicker, she would stop taking her blood thinners and go sit under the fluorescent lamps.

But this Thursday the group was going to the “Piccadilly Tea Room”. A place that June used to go with her husband, Arthur, when he was alive. They would make reservations for high tea and eat delicate sandwiches while drinking orange pekoe the way the Brits make it, piping hot and strong. It reminded June of her upbringing in London, before the war and the rations. June really wanted to go.

So, against her better judgment, she had reluctantly put her name on the list posted on the activity board and tried to ignore all the suggestions from her friends of what to wear.

“Oh, June, you must get in the spirit” Bette smiled as she held up a tacky necklace of giant purple beads. “Here, you can borrow these”

“You, Bette are the last person on the planet I would take fashion advice from!” June grimaced. “You look like Halloween colided with Christmas half the time and a worn out shag rug the other half. I have no interest in looking like I have been dead three days and no one has noticed yet.” June grabbed her walker and headed back to her room to watch Wheel of Fortune.

When it came time to pick an outfit for the outing, June chose her beige barret and tan raincoat. Sensible colors for blending in and acting dignified. When Ceci helped her onto the bus she took out her sunglasses in an effort to shield her eyes from the offensive riot of color that the other gals, who were going on the field trip were inflicting on her visual sensibilities.

In twenty hard felt minutes of listening to the old crowd warble “Roll out the barrels, we’ll have a barrel of fun” and “When Irish Eyes are Smiling” they arrived at the tea shop.

It was just as June had remembered. The smell of ginger and vanilla transported her momentarily to happy times. She could almost hear Arthur’s voice laughing and saying “what’ll you have love? A wee dram in your tea today?” A rare smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she headed for a round table with a cream colored lace tablecloth.

The walls had shelves with pretty tea cups and small stuffed bears giving the whole place a cute look, that was decidedly British. June looked around, lost in thought.

A young fellow came by with a menu and told her that the trifle with clotted cream was on special. He spoke with a fake British accent that made June laugh. The other girls turned and gawked with surprise when they heard it.

She ordered some warm scones with strawberry jam and English Breakfast tea. “piping hot, if you please” she said with a tap on his wrist. “Comin’ right up, young lady” he replied.

Bette sat down beside her. Her hat was red with a large purple bow on the rim. “Well, don’t you look like the cat that swallowed the canary!” Said Bette. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like that since Elmer’s teeth got stuck together. What’s made you so pleased?”

“Well it certainly isn’t your outfit Bette. You look like a batched up blood drive.”

“So what is it then? The girls have a bet going. I do hope you’re having an affair with the waiter-then I win” she winked at June.

“No , nothing of the sort. Arthur used to take me here, if you must know. We came every week before he fell ill.” June looked down at her hands. She rubbed the wrinkles smooth.

“Whoever said her husband won!” Bette called out and a groan went up from most of them, while Elsie, a gal who was completely dressed in lavender, shoes, gloves and all, clapped her hands in celebration.

“I should have guessed you were thinking of Arthur, June. Darn, I could have won five bucks!” Bette giggled.

“Oh, go on and get back to your freeze dried grapes.” June exclaimed but a smile twinkled in her eyes.

The waiter returned with the scones and jam for June, and the trifle for Bette. He poured the steaming tea into China cups and complimented Bette on her hat in that phoney accent.

“Why, you look as lovely as a summer's day in that hat!” He grinned at Bette. She touched her hat and giggled.

“Ha!” Cried June. “Are you sure you haven’t been into the cooking sherry, son? She looks more like a monsoon tore into a cherry tree if you ask me!” He shook his head and went to the next table.

Bette leaned over and whispered “if you don’t want to have an affair with him, I will!” June tutted and shook her head. She cut a piece of the scone and generously spread some strawberry jam on it. Putting down the knife she picked it up to take a bite.

“You should come out with us more often, June, it is good to see you in high spirits! But you’ll have to get a red outfit!” Bette teased.

June harumphed just as an essential tremor slightly shook her hand with just enough strength to dislodge the red strawberry jam from off of her scone so that it landed on the front of her tan jacket and rolled on down towards her lap, leaving a bright red streak across her front.

“See there!” Said Bette with a grin. “You are fitting in already!”