I have always (mostly) been a “high and tight” kind of haircut guy. I was once accused of channeling Oliver North, that Vietnam-era ultra conservative guy who never had a hair longer than 3/8” long anywhere on his head. My hair, however, has little to do with politics and much more to do with just personal preference, and ease of care.
Looking in the mirror this morning, I swore I could hear the lyrics to “Almost Cut My Hair”, thank you Crosby Stills Nash & Young. It was playing in my head as I closely examined the growth that was taking over my ears, real estate it rarely, if ever, gets to.
Go ahead, laugh. I’ve been laughed at for way worse. But it’s been 32 days since my last haircut (yes, I keep track, there’s an app for that). I’m imaging what it will be like in another 4 weeks. I think I’m beginning to experience My Inner Hippie.
It’s ironic that Wendy, who used to suffer way more anxiety about her hair, is just riding out The Incarceration. She let her hair go natural years ago, and it really doesn’t matter to her what her hair length is. Except that when it’s long, she wants it short, and vice versa. Me: short all the time.
Getting a haircut, which seems so far off into the future at this moment, is a true pleasure for me. Now, when I’m thinking about it, I start to silently chant tunes from the 60’s. Richie Havens mostly. Sweetwater, Arlo Guthrie, Grateful Dead, anything from Woodstock. Of course, anyone born in the 60’s is much too young to remember them, and anyone old enough to have lived them can’t remember them either. It was a Phantom Decade. Full of really good music.
If The Incarceration goes on for more than another month, I’m pledging to go back to my early 70’ college years and start sporting a little ponytail. That might be wishing for a lot, I don’t see the back of my head, so my hair is only long enough for that in my imagination. But, hey, I’m a hippie now, so it ain’t about how it looks, Man. It’s about how it feels.
And now, a word or two from Tippy the Hippie.