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Family and high school friends have often asked why I decided to let my hair grow. Decide? Sure, it was my life, and I was particpating in it, but that doesn't mean there was a decision. That makes me start to wonder how many things we decide, and how many we just create bit by bit until we wake up and find the matter long settled without intent, decision, or even a clue. Of course, as long as I lived at home, it wasn't my decision. When Dad said go to the barber, I went. If he said go back, I went back. That was fine because I had no real interest in the length of my hair. As long as it wasn't like when a new barber came to town when I was about six. For the next several weeks, every kid in the neighborhood wore a hat, and since I was a younger brother, my black cowboy hat got appropriated. When I eventually moved away from home, I didn't decided to prove my independence by growing long hair. I was busy, broke, and lazy, and probably still a bit paranoid about letting a stranger wave sharp objects around my head. The hair grew while I wasn't paying attention. Then there was the time I shaved too quickly and cut myself just above the upper lip. While that was healing, a moustache grew. Okay, the rest of the beard was my choice. After all, it went well with the long hair and moustache. It also meant saving money on razors and shaving cream. And I starting getting noticed in ways that never happened in high school. Sure, shyness and plaid polyester hadn't helped back then, and I was ready to take what attention I could get. Of late, when I hear, "My, you have lovely hair," I turn and find a great-grandmother type with blue hair, but a compliment is a compliment. Even more fun is when a young sales clerk comes up from behind and says, "Can I help you, m'am?" I turn a little slowly, drop my voice to the lowest register I can manage and answer, "Why yes, thank you." Then I smile a little more for each shade of red they achieve. Also, back in high school, no one ever said that I reminded them of anyone. I was just the guy in polyester and wearing those black plastic glasses long before Charlie Sheen made them cool. Students have compared me to Jesus, and to John the Baptist, probably on a day when my hair was expressing its more willful side. They may have hoped that such comparisons would result in a higher grade, but that probably didn't motivate the student who compared me to former cult leader David Koresh. As I've gained weight, comparisons with Jerry Garcia have become more frequent. It seems to happen most often when going through the drive-thru at any Rally's restaurant. I don't know what the connection is between Garcia and Rally's, but there may be a connection with the weight gain. Today, a cashier said that I looked like the offbeat scientist in Independence Day, not the Jeff Goldblum character. She meant the guy who gets strangled, another whimsical hair day for me. I have enough ego to keep my hair long while it still gets attention, but now one of my goals is to someday be compared to a living person, or at least someone who died at a ripe, even over-ripe, old age. ---------------------------------- Contact, Converse, Critique, Question ----------------------------------------------
Would you like to know when the site gets updated? Drop me an e-mail, and I'll add you to the list. Much of my writing has been for the antiques site lately, but I have a long list of essays in assorted stages of revision for this site. The people who e-mail often apologize because they assume I'm swamped with e-mails. I only wish it were true. I'm a teacher from the marrow out, so give me questions. I'm a writer, so I also need an audience. Sometimes that means applause, sometimes rotten tomatoes. From time to time, a student decides to use some of my ideas, or perhaps they even quote me in a paper. Great, I'll take what fame and traces of immortality I can get. However, I should also warn such students that my ideas are not always the things that your teachers want to hear. I'm a stubborn idealist, and that puts me at odds with quite a bit of education theory and literary criticism. Sure, I think I'm right about some things, and I'm sometimes convinced of my own brilliance, but don't jump into the fire blindfolded. FDP |