The boys loved their baseball caps. Any form of activity, and that brightly colored, mud-stained hat would be on their heads.

These hats were a necessary element to the pair and saw a lot of moments with those boys from elementary to high school. No cap, they felt naked, exposed, weary - not as strong and composed as they acted with it on, except for at the dinner table when their father would tell them, "For crying out loud, take those stinkin' hates off!" (And even then, the hats were on their knees, waiting to later be put back on).

Those boys grew up.
One is a car dealer - a business for good dress; a business for good impressions. Is there any location for that battered old cap? The cap has been reluctantly abandoned, perhaps tumbled through his hands from time to time while nostalgia takes over.
The other boy is now a Marine. His light hearted wrestling matches are now not so light, deployed in Japan. Where is that cap? DId he bring it overseas to remember those back home, to remind him to be his own cheerful self during war?

Or are those caps in an attic somewhere; forgotten and abandoned, collecting dust and fading colors?