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Hair Today, Goon Tomorrow

Photo courtesy of JT West Grad John Barrowman in the 1993 production of "Hair" at the Old Vic in London
Photo courtesy of JT West Grad John Barrowman in the 1993 production of "Hair" at the Old Vic in London

Almost cut my hair
It happened just the other day

It was gettin' kinda long
I could-a said, it was in my way
       Almost Cut My Hair – David Crosby

Darlin', give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there hair, shoulder length or longer
Here, baby, there, momma, everywhere, daddy, daddy
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair

       From the musical Hair. Music and lyrics by: Galt Mac Dermot / Gerome  Ragni / James Rado


I just got a haircut today, June 2. My last haircut was just a few days prior to the shelter-in-place order…Over 2-and-a-half months ago.

Now, I’m an old hippie so letting my hair get a little long isn’t a big deal. However my hair, this time, was in the realm of a Donald Trump comb-over.

I considered just letting it go all summer…maybe a Covid 19 ponytail when we get back on campus in the fall. But in the end it was just too damn heavy and hot. As I told the barber/hairstylist/whatever, “I feel 30 pounds lighter.” (BTW this isn’t too much of an exaggeration. I weighed myself when I got home and, while it wasn’t 30 pounds, it was enough so I can have a couple of extra cookies for dessert.)

My other running gag with the barber/hairstylist/whatever is that, when we’re done she looks down at the floor and says “Wow that’s a lot of hair!” And I always reply, “Yes but it beats the alternative.”

I used to hate having to get a haircut. Waiting forever, paying someone to make idle chit-chat, Blah-blah-blah. And I still end up looking like I stuck my head in a lawnmower. I envy my African American friends who look forward to a trip to the barbershop. I don’t get the same contentment and satisfaction that they do. I usually look like Bernie Sanders on a bad hair day. Yikes.

But in the end, this time, I was ecstatic to take a number, wait outside 6 feet apart, jump in the chair separated by shower curtains from the other chairs and take the weight of the world off my head.

In this upside-down world we live in all I can say is that needing a haircut beats the alternative. Stay hairy my friends.

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