Jul. 01, 2002 - 21:52 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

There

Most of us have an article of attire that we wear from birth, but have very little control of the fickle things. Some of us wear it for just awhile and some of us wear it to the grave. Over the centuries much has been made of it, or the lack thereof. And I guess billions of dollars have been spent to make it prettier than it was, with mixed results.

Hair, hair of various colors and perversity. Diversity in straightness or curl is forced on us by nature for the most part. Barber and beauty shops do make money cutting and messing with hair, there each customer can get what they wish for in length and curl or lack of it. And at least for me, I never can get my darn hair combed out to look like it did when the barber finished with it.

Some people deliberately shave their skulls and faces, some people who are going bald wear toupees, some attempt comb overs. Some people cannot seem to be satisfied with the hair they have and have it tinted or flat out dyed and a certain percentage of the women change ther hair color each week.

Men have hair foibles too. My Dad had a mustache, a little bitty toothbrush thing it was and had his hair cut close to his head too. I have my quirks also which were of course the opposite of my Dads. Then I became a so called adult and got married, started a family. At one time in the 70's when I was working in a job shop machine shop all the people out on the floor had long hair, mustaches and full beards. Great, that was my excuse and in a short time I had it all. Hair down to my shoulders, a handlebar mustache and a full beard. Somehow I managed to stay married even so. It did help that Heather came to pick me up one afternoon at quitting time and saw the hair parade.

When Heather's Mom died I went establishment for the funeral and stayed barefaced for a long time after that. dulling razor blades like mad.

When I went into the Psych place an alcoholic, as I made progress I had time to decide what I wanted to do and to produce something on the outside which showed the change inside by the hair outside. I grew a mustache which became the Doug I was then I even had it tweaked on the ends like Hercule Poirot.

About the time our oldest son grew a beard I started mine, then Heather had two men to growl at.

Oldest son and I have straight hair but our youngest son when he began to grow hair as a baby it came out curly, curly. He had a perfect helmet of tight, golden curls, looked almost like a bust one would see in a museum of ancient lore.

I always had wanted red, curly hair. Especially so when I saw that a quick comb through from front to back was all it took for a guy to look as good as possible. I would admire son's head of hair and reconciled myself that red hair didn't run in the family.

Hoo boy, some one and I can't remember who said something once that I can remember just a bit of a phrase, "All is vanity," I guess that is why the place most women comb their hair is called a vanity ? A guy does his thing in the mirror on the medicine chest, a slap, dash with a bit of astringent slapped on his face after shaving and a muttered, "Thanks, I needed that." Just to return and comb his darn hair.

With me now there is a contest, my forehead is heading for my shoulder blades making me wonder, will I be left with a fringe on the nape of my neck or just extended forehead ? The floor in the barber shop has a coat of white hair when the barber is done with me. Not much room for vanity here, an old man with skimpy white hair who still has a mustache and beard in the outdated color white.

The world over shows us hair done up in amazing styles, to the eye of the beholder in that country the way hair is done up is a thing of beauty and sometimes ritualistic significance.

I rave on and on about hair, so There . . . . . . .

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