Some very interesting (and beret-related) personal histories can be found on the blog of David García Goñi.
The story of grandfather Esteban, for example. Born on a very cold Boxing Day, 1919, Esteban grew up in a harsh and poor environment, taken to work the fields with his father at an early age.
The Spanish Civil War broke out when he was 16 and he fought at, and survived, the Battle of the Ebro, returning to his village and the only way he knew how to make a living.
There, he married Rufina and created a family; two boys and a girl. Grandfather Esteban simply never took off his beret. If he had done so, he would have felt more naked than after taking off his clothes. He always seemed serious, but if you were throwing a little joke, it always drew a good smile.
The beret is a Spanish way of life, an institution if you will. As a Spaniard myself i never like to go anywhere without my trusty beret, Makhila, and Aitor pocket knife! When it's windy or i feel a chill, i put on my Cape Berger and i walk to hear my Catholic Mass typically on Saturday evenings since it is very difficult for me to wake up on Sunday mornings. Take care Dan and Saludos!
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