I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville wife and mother with a passion for family travel, (mostly) healthy cooking, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries with you, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark.
December 11, 2013
My husband and I have been married nearly 12 years, and in that time, we’re fortunate to have grown so close that almost nothing can come between us.
Notice I said ‘almost.’
One minor disagreement has managed to put a certain amount of strain on our relationship. It involves a particular hat that my husband likes to wear. Already, many of you know where this is going.
For the last 50 years (I’m making that estimate just by looking at the thing), Dennis has owned an ushanka. “A what?” you ask.
For as long as I’ve known him, Dennis, a TV news reporter (if the picture above wasn’t enough to clue you in), has pulled out the trusty ushanka every time he has to do a live shot in wintery weather. I’m sure it looked great when he bought it– but over the years it has taken a beating, to put it mildly. Back in 2010, I wrote about the ushanka in my Suburban Turmoil column for the Nashville Scene. Here’s an excerpt:
A close look at the hat revealed that its wool interior had become matted. Its earflaps sagged. Its sheepskin was worn and discolored. It looked as if our dog had perhaps used the ushanka as a plaything at some point, and it also seemed to have shrunk, since Hubs no longer wore it pulled down over his ears, but instead perched it atop his head like a child’s hat made of newspaper.
“Hubs,” I said gently, after yet another one of my readers made a reference to seeing “that hat thing” on television. “I think it might be time to retire the ushanka.”
He bristled. “I’ve had that hat for 20 years,” he said.
“I know,” I replied. “That’s kind of my point.”
“People like the ushanka!” Hubs insisted. “It makes them laugh!”
“And not in a good way!” I retorted.
I didn’t know it at the time, but that column ended up taking the ushanka to another level here in Nashville. People began to treat a sighting of my husband’s ushanka a lot like I imagine the residents of Punxsutawney act when they see their famous groundhog. Dennis’s hat became a hilarious symbol of winter’s arrival in Middle Tennessee- and of the panic that ensues on local news when anything frozen falls from the sky.
I’ve evolved as a wife since writing that column, and I’m learning now to choose my battles. I love Dennis, and if having him as a husband means dealing with an ugly-ass ushanka, I guess I can live with it. And that’s a good thing, because if the city of Nashville has anything to do with it, it looks like that hat is here to stay.
A few days ago, freezing rain was in the forecast. A little after five pm that day, this appeared in my Facebook feed.
Yep. The ushanka was back, and better than ever.
Perhaps hoping to put an end to the ushanka problem once and for all, someone at WSMV posted a photo of Dennis in his ushanka on the official Channel Four Facebook page, asking people what they thought of it. I’m guessing they thought viewers would shame Dennis into removing his infamous winter hat forever.
265 comments and 515 ‘likes’ later, it was official. People love that damn ushanka. Sure, a few people were down on it, but the overwhelming majority said stuff like this:
Seeing him wearing that hat is like watching Chevy chase’s Christmas vacation….it’s a tradition!!
Hey, those hats are warm, try standing out there for hours on end giving weather updates in the cold rainy weather…. You go Dennis!!!
I like it! Practical and warm with just a bit of good humor tossed in for good measure.
If it keeps your head warm. Its a keeper.
And that’s not all. Dennis Ferrier’s hat now has its own Facebook and Twitter accounts. And although yesterday he got lucky and wasn’t assigned to cover the light snow that fell overnight in Nashville, his hat still made it on the air:
All this to say that I feel it’s important for me to publicly acknowledge something.
I WAS WRONG.
Dennis, you can wear that ushanka any time you like and I promise, I won’t say a word.
But don’t get too comfortable– If you ever do this again…
We’re going to have some issues.