What the Elders Sent You

For years, my wife has teased me about having thinning hair. My daughter has teased that my pillow is the hairy one on the bed. Yes, my hair is a washed-out gray color of old paving, but at least I have lots of it for samples. This was patently untrue. This summer on a family vacation a bunch of us got into a long harangue about whether baldness was handed down from which grandparent and who had it and what was therefore proof of who in our family was doomed. I think I deliberately let myself get confused following the heredity argument so that I wouldn’t have to know. It should have been a clue.

Tonight I looked in the hotel mirror and see – cripes! – that through the front where I put in that Aveda floral gel juice stuff to curl it, I can indeed see twinges of my scalp. Damn! First I turn 50 (well, a year ago) and then everything goes to hell. And now this on top of it. One more prop to my oversized ego crashes down in cinders. Sigh.

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