Hair: Sunday Scribblings

Here is my "Sunday Scribbling contribution to this week's topic, "Hair." Yeah, I know, I'm posting this a few hours early...

I started out with no hair. As a baby they called me Ike, after the President Eisenhower. We were both bald. I got my first hair cut when I was two. From what I was told, I didn’t need it, but it seemed the right thing to do since my brother, who is 18 months younger than me, needed a hair cut. It seems from the beginning I was playing catch up. He’s also five inches taller than me! I had long hair for a while as a kid, but my dad never let it get too out of control. Then I thought I might want to go into the military and took Jr. ROTC in High School. I had to get a hair cut. It was a mistake, or more probably it was a time of great learning. My friends in ROTC, who couldn’t understand my liberal views on certain things, named me Fidel (that was even before my beard). My other friends, mostly involved in debate, couldn’t understand my interest in the military and called me JB (John Birch). When I got out of ROTC and decided I’d had enough of saluting folks who did deserve it and vowed not to cut my hair for at least a year. And I didn't get a hair cut for 13 months, and might have become a Samson had it not been for the fact that my Afro (which is what my curly hair turned into in the hot muggy south) was just too darn hot. So I got it cut and throughout the rest of the seventies and mid-80s, my hair stayed a respectful length for the era.

I’m not sure when I started losing my hair. When I was my late 20s, I decided to head for Pittsburgh for more schooling. I was telling my plans to the young woman who had been cutting my hair for a few years. When she was done, instead of telling me the regular price, she cut it in half saying she didn’t have to cut any off the top. I don’t remember if I tipped her or not, but I hope not. Such comments shouldn’t be rewarded. It was about that time that I discovered that even if my hair wasn’t growing on my head, the bottom 40 (around my face) still produced a good crop. After growing and shaving a few beards, I stopped shaving all together and gave away my soap and brush (I hated using canned shaving cream). Next summer, my current beard will be 20 years old. If I shaved it, I could probably become an Ike impersonator and for that reason alone, I think I’ll keep it.

A couple years ago a friend here (or I should say former friend here, for friends don’t comment on one’s lack of hair), gave me the shirt in the picture. He worked in research at a local pharmaceutical company that manufactures, among other things, Rogaine.