We came across some old family pictures the other day. Taken at an elementary school open house, they document some of the busiest years of our parenthood. One child in middle school, one in upper elementary and one still in daycare – we were constantly pulled in a million directions.

“Man, look how young we were,” was Bill’s first remark. Followed by, “How did we ever do it?”

“We just did. There was no choice,” was my answer. But I silently acknowledged that parenting was an erratic journey; sometimes we were right on track, other times we were a complete train wreck.

Those years documented in the photo were some of the most joyful but were also some of the toughest. My children’s competitive nature, combined with exploding hormones and age differences, made for many turbulent days.

Tired of yelling, fighting and slamming doors, I gathered everyone around the kitchen table. I was stressed, Bill was stressed and whether they could verbalize it or not, the kids were stressed. Using my best new-agey mother words (which, honestly, were like speaking a foreign language), I identified the problem and asked how we were going to fix it. The kids went first so they’d see that their opinions mattered.

With an eye roll and a prepubescent attitude, the oldest answered, “I guess when we’re angry, we could count to 10 before answering.”

My son, the middle child, offered, “When we don’t like something, we can just go outside or hang out in our rooms.” Which is what he did anyway.

And then came the youngest. She hesitated for a moment, wearing a thoughtful expression along with her flowery headband. “I think,” she began, “we should all just wear hats.”

The non-sequitur broke the mood, and we laughed. I don’t think we came up with an actual solution. But, to this day, whenever things get tense in our family, someone remarks, “We should all just wear hats,” and the mood shifts. No one should ever doubt the lasting magic of a 4-year-old’s commentary.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about hats a lot. Perhaps this started with the donation of my son’s ballcaps. A few from school, a couple hockey related and a plethora of Yankee caps made up much of the horde. Seeing them brought a smile as I remembered his first spring training game. Quin came prepared with a hat for each team. Whoever was ahead determined which cap he’d don. Team loyalty wasn’t in his vocabulary yet – he just wanted to celebrate with whoever was winning.

While I love the old photos of men in their fedoras and women sporting millinery confections, those days are gone. Sadly, the glamour and civility of hats from bygone eras have become symbols of political beliefs as if they were sports teams. Ball caps sling out slogans at innocent bystanders, while hand-knit protest hats amplify the wearer’s beliefs. Our national issues are certainly real and deeply disturbing, but the headgear battle seems somewhat odd to me. And where the phrase “We should all wear hats” is a reminder of love in our family, political hat-wearing exemplifies the divide within our country.

I’m not naive. I’m distressed with what is going on at the national level. I’m deeply concerned about the “Go team! Rah, rah” nature of political discourse. This tribalism even permeated our local mayoral race, where it seemed people forgot that we are all neighbors.

Finally, at the public debate, I found solace in the board candidates. Those who’d thrown their hats in the ring were qualified, cared about the village’s future and respected one another. I left confident that no matter who won the vote, the board was in good hands. And now that the election is over, the real work will begin to address legitimate problems.

So, maybe it’s time that we all wear the same hat — or take them off. Either way, on the local level, it’s time to demonstrate what I’ve always loved about Saranac Lake: when times are tough, we pull our caps down and face the storm together.