This is a picture of Carol Lopez at the Morro Bay Farmers Market. She does all sorts of things, but mostly beanies, and most of those are either fancy or cute. So, I passed her by a few times when I first moved here. Everything I buy for myself is plain or generic. If there’s no visible brand, my children won’t wear it. I can only say, they did not get that from me.

I had a hunting cap with ears that folded down. It was light gray in soft wool. When it got cold I just folded down the ears. I absolutely loved that cap. Until someone I knew showed me the label on the back. “Do you know what that is?” he demanded. “A label?” I said. “That is the label of a gay clothing company!” I was surprised. For one thing, it fit. There isn’t an article of gay clothing I’ve ever seen in my size. It didn’t seem gay in any way. It was warm and comfortable. And besides, who cares if it’s gay. I’m not gay. No one would mistake me for being gay. I find gay men somewhat overbearing, though I certainly don’t dismiss them. But sure enough, I looked it up. It was a company that specialized in clothing for gay men.

So, one of the gay men I knew took me aside to explain the cap. It was something of a joke, he said. “No gay man would be caught dead in this cap. They were meant to chuckle at it in the store. I don’t think they ever expected to sell it, and when you walked out with it on your head, they were probably disappointed.” “But I love this cap,” I said. “And you just keep wearing it,” he replied. “No one will think for a moment that you’re gay.”

I would be wearing that cap now if I could find it.

Last winter I thought that living so close to the ocean would mean not having to worry about my ears. But we went through a cold spell like the one we’ve just gone through, and I found myself one Saturday afternoon looking seriously at the beanies. I explained the problem about fanciness to Carol, not that I knew her name then. She rummaged around and came up with one in light and dark gray in a sort of neutral pattern, as close to generic as they come.

I wore it for two weeks, but no matter how hard I pulled, it would not cover my ears. Sure, the top of my head was warm and I didn’t look silly, but my ears were ready to fall off. She hemmed and hawed, and then she measured, and finally said come back next week. She knit the same beanie a bit bigger around and four inches longer — and refused payment for it. It was an act of unexpected kindness and absolutely heaven to wear. I gave the one that didn’t quite fit to the postman (or post lady?) who says it goes with her uniform, and who wears it when the temperature drops.

You never know when kindness will strike or good people will appear. I wouldn’t have expected it to happen at the Farmers Market. If you’re in Morro Bay, she’s right across from the Kettle Corn business that I wrote about two days ago. Handcrafted Accents, Proudly Knitted and Crocheted in the USA for Your Family, Friends and Home. The little beanies for kids, by the way, are absolutely the cutest things you’ve ever seen.