More than one person has inquired about the fork stuck in the ranger's stiff blue campaign hat. They wonder how it got there, mostly. "Why the fork in the hat?" is usually about the way it goes. As the person responsible for this graphic aberration, I feel totally incapable of responding with "gee, I dunno," even though it's fairly close to the truth. I usually tell this possibly true story.

Once upon a time there was a law enforcement officer who lived and worked in a place where the standard issue uniform is capped with a blue campaign hat. Let's call him George (not his real name). Late one evening Big Red chanced to pass through George's enforcement territory while he was sitting in a patrol car at the side of the highway. I noticed the patrol car, of course. But in Big Red, I felt pretty secure I wasn't going to get a speeding ticket. I was right about that: George pulled me over for something else entirely.
     License plate light. The damn thing was out again. I was the very picture of contrition. And, I was prepared. Believe it or not, I have a little baggie in Big Red's glove box that's full of assorted twelve volt lightbulbs. Trouble was, I couldn't read the numbers because I've never been able to get the cab light to work. And I needed to get out to the back bumper to check the number with the burnt out one anyway.
     Once George felt comfortable that I wasn't some kind of deviant or perp, he let me out to check the bulb. My fervent wish was that if I fixed it on the spot, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to write me up. Turned out I got lucky: he even helped by shining his big flashlight on my impromptu project.
     When the light was working again he nodded one of those really crisp, authoritative nods. Just a little too vigorously: his hat fell off.
     I was quicker on the draw than he was and picked it off the gravel shoulder and handed it back to him. "I always liked those kind of hats," I said congenially. "Trooper hats, right? I never saw one with these kind of cooling holes, though." This last part was in response to four small holes in the top...you guessed it: just where the fork sits in the Recipe Rangers logo.
     George put the hat back in place and nodded his thanks. "Actually, Mr. Ellison, a ranger hat is something entirely different. This is a campaign hat. They don't usually come with the four holes you noticed. Let's just say I keep this hat as a reminder to never let my eyes off of a suspect holding a cooking fork in his hand."

I've been thinking about Trooper George's story off and on for a couple years. I'm still not sure about it, but it's the kind of story that's just close enough to possible to be true. And that's enough for me. As for what prompted me to celebrate that tale in the Recipe Rangers logo...gee, I dunno.