# 68 Hair

From Hair to Hats

Hair.....long beautiful hair......If you are a child of the Sixties, a flower child, then like me, that song from the Musical "Hair" has probably been making a nuisance of itself in your mind ever since reading today's Sunday Scribblings prompt.

We humans attach significant importance to hair; socially, politically, emotionally, and sexually. To a somewhat lesser extent our hair connotes our race and national identity.

I've never been content with my hair, from dark brown, thick and curly to thin, white and wavy. I wanted straight hair like Elvis, Fabian, and the Everly brothers. Instead I got hair more reminiscent of Nat Kin Cole. I did have a period when I identified with Dean Martin.

Then there was the time in my late thirties when I had my prematurely gray hair professionally dyed. My exercise regime at that time included swimming laps in the local high school pool during the wee hours of the morning. Within a few days, my newly darkened tresses turned orange from exposure to the pool's chlorine, and that put an end to that experiment. Grey was definitely better than orange.

In my younger years, those would be the years between birth and adolescence, I paid little attention to my hair per se. My mother saw to it that my hair was washed regularly, combed and parted at least once a day, and took me to the barber every-so-often and instructed the him on how to cut my hair.

I do recall a hairy incident, or I should say a hairless incident when I was twelve that made me acutely aware of my relationship with my hair. A fungus of the common name, ringworm, established itself dead-center on the top of my head. Dear ol' Dr. Sothstiem instructed my mother to shave my head completely bald and apply a foul smelling unguent to my scalp in order to rid me of this infestation. Since I wasn't yet a fan of Yul Brenner, and Bruce Willis wasn't born yet, I was needless to say, embarrassed to the max. And so it was, that during this belittling episode I discovered the usefulness of hats. They didn't make wigs or hairpieces for twelve year old boys in those days. For those many long weeks until my hair grew out, I strode, bike- rode and patrolled the neighborhood in Davey's coon skin cap, Roy's cowboy hat, a Jim Hawkins' pirate bandanna, Tom Sawyer's straw hat, Zorro's flamenco hat, King Arthur's helmet, and of course, my American Legion Little League baseball cap when I was imagining myself as Yogi Berra.

Thus began mon affaire d'amour avec le chapeau, which continues to this very day!