Why I'm A Hairy Guy

For the past year or so, I have been striving to do my best as a husband and father, keeping the bills paid with my checks, doing my chores around the house, guiding the young ones with my wisdom and common sense and being as good a partner to my wife as I can. Yet, in this same time period, a lot of questions have come my way regarding the ever-increasing length of my hair…you know, like it was still back in the 60s or some junk. Totally groovy, far out, solid and right on, baby. That’s pretty much where it started. I’ve mentioned spending my youth watching Chad Everett and his flowing locks in the opening segment of ‘Medical Center’ and the Harvey Cartoon where Katnip the Cat sings about his tresses until it started coming out in bunches and he has to rely on Buzzy the Crow to make it grow again. I reveled in reading the exploits of the Mighty Thor, who was never known for his crew cut. Then, there was that poem by George Carlin about ‘being fair with your hair’ and the song by the Cowsills about letting your hair grow until ’it stops by itself’. I used to daydream about how far it would go. Sadly, it was not to be for a long time. My father (who went prematurely bald in his 30s, so I have to rely on VERY old photos to see him with any hair at all) made sure all the boys were close-cropped, parted down the side and sometimes even shaved just above the ears. Fortunately, I seem to have inherited my maternal grandfather’s hair so there was a chance for me later on. In my teen years, I had the chance to let it grow out a little, but not enough to cost me a job or attract the vile ribald jests of some local yokels with whom I had to share the classroom and work area. Even so, one Christmas shortly after graduation, I clearly remember night cruising with my brother and some friends. At that point I had what was properly known as a full-blown Mullet. The exhilaration of feeling the hair on the back of my head blowing up to cover my face was never forgotten. It went out pretty far in college (where I suffered the remark from my mom about being a cross between George Harrison and Charles Manson) until I left the sanctity of home and campus to fend for myself and, eventually, my family. From then on, as a representative of whatever business I was associated, I would periodically head for the nearest tonsorial establishment and suffer the ‘rape of the lock’. At one point, I had a supervisor who was an ultra-conservative paranoid survivalist type who steadfastly refused to cut his own hair until President Clinton left the White House, hence after eight years and a near-impeachment, his hair fell fairly down his back. It irritated me that he, in his position, could pull if off, but required…nay, commanded me to continue the periodic shearing. It was the kind of hair I always wanted, but I can’t say I liked it on the hard-line hypocrite who wore it. (It’s okay…that was a bridge that needed burning.) When I came back to the Ivory Tower that was my alma mater, I took the phrase ‘long-hair intellectuals’ to heart, but first I made sure it was okay with my boss. Folks, I would take a bullet for this guy. I have since avoided beauty parlors, barber shops, clip joints and the like in a last-ditch attempt to see exactly how long I can get the follicles to grow and flourish. I also found something interesting to do with my beard, shearing the moustache off and leaving what one of my son’s GameCube games called a ‘partial beard with soul patch’. I guess it’s the combination that has gotten gums flapping. I feel like I’ve gotten as much attention as my wife’s new car. So who would play me in the movie? Some people think I look like Albus Dumbledore, but I don’t know if they mean the one portrayed by Richard Harris or Michael Gambon. Certainly the reading glasses add to the image. Then there are others who are certain I’m Ian McKellan’s Gandalf from ‘Lord of the Rings’. Of course there are the radical ideas ranging from Christopher Lee in the ‘Star Wars’ saga to Jeff Bridges in ‘The Big Lebowski’.I’d have to add some Grecian Formula to get back to that, though.What does my wife think, you ask? She had gone on record with Tim Curry in his ‘Rocky Horror’ days, but I really think she would like a little Sam Elliot from ‘Road House’.At this point, the hair is the longest it’s ever been. And yet, I have not relived the experience I had that one magic Christmas night. I have, however, managed to partially eat my hair with an errant bite of a Big Mac. Not the same thing.