Hair

Hair
She asks me why...I'm just a hairy guy
I'm hairy noon and night; Hair that's a fright.
I'm hairy high and low,
Don't ask me why; don't know!
It's not for lack of bread
Like the Grateful Dead; darling

Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there, hair!
Shoulder length, longer (hair!)
Here baby, there mama, Everywhere daddy daddy

CHORUS:
Hair! (hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair)
Flow it, Show it;
Long as God can grow it, My Hair!

Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas, a hive for bees
A nest for birds, there ain't no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my

CHORUS

I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy
Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty
Oily, greasy, fleecy, shining
Gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Knotted, polka-dotted; Twisted, beaded, braided
Powdered, flowered, and confettied
Bangled, tangled, spangled and spaghettied!

O-oh, Say can you see; my eyes if you can,
Then my hair's too short!
Down to here, down to there,
Down to where, down to there;
It stops by itself!
doo doo doo doo doot-doot doo doo doot

They'll be ga-ga at the go-go
when they see me in my toga
My toga made of blond, brilliantined, Biblical hair
My hair like Jesus wore it
Hallelujah I adore it
Hallelujah Mary loved her son
Why don't my Mother love me?

I read in the newspaper this past weekend, one of those retrospect pieces where headlines of a bygone era are highlighted. Back in 1931 in Roanoke, Virginia, according to the newspaper archives, Lakeside Amusement Park signed a contract with a Human Ape to perform at the park for the remainder of the season. “Timbu, the Human Ape, has been booked for nightly performances at Lakeside during the remainder of the summer season.” What kind of performances did Tamu perform? What did “he” do? Was Tamu a human or some kind of transmutant? Lakeside sure had a rich history of quality entertainment.

I’ve always been concerned about body hair. It’s not a real obsession on my part, but it is of passing notice. When I was a child, I was born with very fair hair on my head and all over my body. You might have thought I was blonde, but eventually, the hair on my head darkened. Back in those days, the only hair issue I was concerned about was just how short my father would buzz my head. I was firmly in the Beatle generation, and I learned to resolutely stand my ground for a longer hair style.

By the time I was twelve, I was growing some impressive bangs. These suckers would slide over my eyeballs. While the rest of my hair was relatively short, my bangs raged over the eyes, hiding me from people I was too shy to encounter. By the time I turned sixteen, my bangs were matched by my angel wings. I used to tease the hair behind me to curl like a girl. By the time I posed for my sophomore picture for the yearbook, I had the cleverly split bangs with the “That Girl” locks coupled with my purple themed plaid jacket and maroon and white polka-dotted tie. I was cool, but despite my beautiful, shiny hair, I was relatively hairless.

If you are a bit sensitive, this is where you need to check out. I’m about to write about body hair. Puberty. Peer Pressure.

I remember feeling so inferior when ordered into the gang showers in middle school. Most of the “Guys" had already achieved a most mature state of manhood, while I was left in a nymph stage. Bald. Hairless. Towel-covering... embarrassing.

Hair didn’t finally begin growing for me in secret places until I turned seventeen years old. Then fine hair began to grow. Eventually, I found that I needed to shave light blonde hairs from my face. Santa brought me an electric razor that year. When I first began teaching, I had to shave about once a week with my Norelco. To this day, my wife is convinced that I can’t grow a beard. I suspect that’s a result of my Polish heritage. Scraggly beard, fine body hair. I learned to accept my hairy physical limitations. Until…

I grew older. Now, hair has begun to sprout from unnatural places in my body. Some of the places can’t be mentioned on a public forum. Now that I’m 46 years old, hair has begun sprouting from my ear holes, nostrils, and other lest savory places. These hairs tickle, but not in a pleasurable or pleasing sense. They are definitely hairs that need to be kept in check. Wild hairs.

Luckily, I have a wild hair stylist who understands the errant nature of stray hairs. Whenever I visit Harold, my stylist, he knows to contain these abhorrent growths, or at least the ones above my neck. After he zaps them away, he soothes the affected area with medicinal powders that only barbers steeped in the lore of their craft possess knowledge of. I’m looking forward to my meeting with Harold tomorrow. My nose and ears thank him. I only wish he’d provide similar service to my back and chest. I'm concerned that after an inauspicious start to a hairy life, I'm slowly heading to a career as a modern day Human Ape.

"Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!"