The Hat

In my last blog entry I gave examples of extremely short "stories" that were intriguing because they generate many questions and leave much to the reader's imagination.  The examples I listed were all fictional and meant to entertain.

But here's one from my childhood, and unlike those others, this one is true. It's a haunting memory that generates more questions than answers.

In the mid-1950's we lived in a new subdivision in Sacramento, California, just a few blocks from the American River. Today there are bikepaths along the river, and it's a popular recreation spot. But when I lived there it looked pretty much like this.

My friends and I used to play baseball in a field less than 50 yards from the river. And along one side of the ball field was a bridge spanning the river. I don't know if this bridge was this one, but it looks very similar.

One summer morning as we played ball, someone came running to tell us that a man had stopped his car on the bridge, then he got out and jumped -- an apparent suicide. We ran up the bank to the bridge, and, sure enough, there was a gray car sitting there. The motor had been turned off, and the driver's door was open.

We ran back down to the riverbank, and there, on the ground, directly beneath the bridge, was a spooky scene: a man's hat, sitting next to the water.

The river was calm -- no sign of anyone in the water.

Nobody ever learned the rest of the story.