Hair Talk

Edition #15 — Wed, 10 Jan 2001

Last September, I got together with two old friends; members from my first "professional" band. The singer was playing in a nearby town, so we had arranged to meet there and hang out.

20 years ago, we were just 17 and 18 year old kids. There were 4 of us playing in that band; each sharing the prerequisite attributes necessary for reaching stardom in the music industry: original songs, talent, attitude, and a truckload of vanity.

The vanity part I was reminded about when the bass player and I started discussing our hair and how it was holding out these days...

He offered me this rather ironic insight: "I never told you at the time, but a lot of people used to come up and ask me: 'Hey, who's the guy with the hair?'" Apparently my extensive collection of natural curls looked pretty cool back then. The ironic part is that I never thought so myself - I was always at war with my hair...

Hey Kid, What's With The Hat?

Vanity seizes us so terribly early in life! For as long as I can remember, I was never satisfied with how my hair looked; even at 13 I would wear a tight winter hat over my freshly-showered wet hair before going to school, trying to straighten out my natural curls as much as possible. I wanted straight hair — while it seemed that everyone with straight hair wanted curls...go figure.

My playing in a band at the time also made having cool hair even more necessary. There was a lot of emphasis on having a happening "lid", even just to qualify.

Actually, I remember getting a lot of compliments from women about my hair. So what? Big deal! Vanity isn't about physical reality, it's about personal insecurity; using "perfection" as a decoy to lure others away from even greater flaws that we may falsely believe that everyone is aware of.

Perfectionism is a hedge against rejection; a way to avoid the pain of being marginalized by your peers. No one escapes it. I sure as hell didn't.

Funny thing is, most people are so caught up in their own vanity that they don't have time to worry about other people and their social display anxieties.

Merry Baldness, And A Happy New Hair.

A few days ago I saw some photos taken of me this Christmas, 2000. The thing I noticed most, of course, was the state of my hair.

Damned vanity; it's still haunting me!

I count my blessings though: I'm lucky to have kept as much of it for as long as I have. It does, however, seem to be getting rather urgent about making an exit, leaving me with some extra scalp real estate for which I have no immediate building plans. Wearing my hat a lot is just my way of saying: Yeah, I'll deal with you later...

Along with the gradual hairloss, I also see that characteristic "broadening" of my facial features. It seems that men, between their mid 30's to 40's, get that wider-looking "man face" thing; I've watched it happen to my friends — now it's happening to me. Maybe it's nature. Or the extra hunger from quitting smoking. Who knows...

All of this does make me realize that I'm getting older, at least physically. But here's the twist: I don't feel older! In fact, I feel pretty much like a kid; maybe 18 to 21. Smarter; wiser; and, OK: maybe a little sun-bleached and frayed at the edges — but a kid, nonetheless. Am I not supposed to be feeling "older" now?

Well, I don't. And I'm glad.

Dark Night Of The Scalp... (oops! I meant "Soul")

10 years ago, there was a period of a few months during which I felt rather "old". For a while, I took my age more seriously, letting calendars set the limits on the fulfillment of my dreams and ambitions, rather than how I felt, or whether I actually felt ambitious enough to pursue them still.

I bought into "the age lie", momentarily, but fortunately that dark hour soon gave way to an even better version of the old exuberant me: the forward-looking, optimistic, just-happy-to-be-alive guy. (Well, OK, maybe there's still that hair issue I have to work on...)

What I'm saying is that, since then, I don't feel the passing of time anymore. Despite our cultures emphasis and reliance upon it — it's as though my mind is immune to it's grasp. Age doesn't seem to exist in my reality. The Earth spins around the Sun — SO WHAT! BIG DEAL! All I can think of is the future, and how I can enjoy myself now in trying to recreate what I imagine of it then...

I think we put too much emphasis on "the countdown" toward dying. If you want to be morbid: we start dying at the moment of conception. We need alternatives to worrying about death, or what is possible — or appropriate — for what age. We must base our lives upon how we feel, not on what others think about how we should be feeling.

Luckily, our prejudicial standards are starting to change.

My "Old" Friends.

Many of my friends are in their 40's — remember when that was considered "really old"? Nowadays, as long as my friends don't have bad breath, stinky socks, or spit gathering at the side of their mouth while they talk, then I don't care at all how old they are, whether they've got cool hair, or if they appear old or young. I don't see people by their biological age anymore; I only see "kids". Even my friend whose daughter just had her own child I still consider as being "young".

Age: it's all just a state of mind.

For me, feeling and thinking young isn't some schmaltzy sugar-coating of denial to counteract the inevitability of death. Furthermore, it feels as though the entire world is getting more youthful — a 21 year old in the 1950's was like a 45 year old in today's world — or so it seems when looking back upon those over-starched and over-regulated years of our recent history.

Yeah, I think the world is definitely growing younger.

The mythical "grown up" that my parents seemed to me to represent during my youth has disappeared, giving way to this planet of younger-beings; the souls of eternal children, running around, exploring, creating, and occasionally messing things up, all in an effort to try to figure it all out before their hair and teeth fall out...

And then they have to start all over again — or so I'm being led to believe, the more I delve into this funky phenomenon called "living".

Today, there are only children — seasoned by age and experience into either happy or sad children. There are no real "grown-ups!" Making it to adult status by simple merit of one's getting older is a myth. Look around: do you see any real "adults" anywhere? Or is our world merely a more sophisticated version of a playground — Trump Towers? Las Vegas? Baseball Teams? Political debates? Religious devotion? Money? War? Love?

A true grown-up is merely a happily-wise old child who knows he's here to play, and enjoy him/herself. Hair, of course, is optional. And that's what I want to be when I grow old — a kid, but a little wiser from a lifetime of playing. And plenty of laughlines.

I hope you'll join me.

Roland


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