Posted tagged ‘shaved head’

Growing My Hair Back

April 12, 2018

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                     April 12, 2018

                               

The question has repeated itself countless times since March 4.

“Did you shave your head for St. Baldrick’s Day?” St. Baldrick’s is a day in March when money is raised to help find a cure for childhood cancer. People get their heads shaved at this worthy event.

“No!” I reply.  “I lost a bet to one of my freshman basketball players.”

“Oh!”

I won’t go into the details of the unfortunate bet, just a summary. I had made a wager with one of the boys on my basketball team who was atrocious at shooting free throws. I promised that I would shave my head if he shot 90%  from the free throw line for the season. I lost! He was 2 for 2 for the whole season! (You can go to the archives of “WordsfromWW.com” and read the story entitled “My Last Day With Hair…For A While”, which I posted on March 4) 

So now the hair on my head is growing back…slowly! I’ve gone through stages. The first stage was called “Sluggo”, after the character in the old Nancy comic strip. Little specks of hair dotted the top of my head, like pepper spilled on the kitchen table. Okay, spilled SALT and pepper!

The next stage had me taking on the look of a human pin cushion. I didn’t have to worry about bedhead, but I did have to watch out for short sharp objects accidentally being pushed into my scalp.

And now this week I’ve entered into the realm of the porcupine. My hair is at that growing back point where people look at you and wonder if you’re possibly an escaped felon on the lam. No one on the front of GQ magazine has hair like this. Come to think of it, no one on the front of AARP magazine has hair like this either. I am in the hair equivalent of the wilderness desert where Jesus spent forty days roaming around.

The next stage I’m afraid may be called “crabgrass” and my wife will try to run the spreader quietly past me dispersing it’s “Weed-B-Gon”. This may be the stage where I break open the tube of Brylcream that my sister shipped to me. It had been my dad’s. Maybe the slicked back look would make it look better! Ahhh…no!

I’m just hoping that I’m sporting enough of a head of hair a month from now when I go to a writer’s conference in Estes Park, Colorado. I’ve got appointments with a few literary agents, and I’m hoping to get interest in the book I just recently completed. I need to have grown past the crabgrass stage into looking presentable and publishable!

One thing I’ve learned from all this is to qualify the wagers I make with my basketball players better, and to choose a player who will get fouled a lot during the season. Three of my players who shot 64% of all of our team’s free throws had a combined free throw shooting percentage of 46%. Next year I’ll pick one of those kind of players who won’t avoid contact like it’s the bubonic plague.

And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll actually get my head shaved next March for St. Baldrick’s!

My Last Day With Hair…For A While!

March 4, 2018

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                               March 4, 2018

                                 “

Back in November I made a promise to one of my basketball players. He was worse than pitiful shooting free throws during our practices. His shots weren’t even close! Clank! Bam! Crack! Airball!

And then I said it. “Verle, if you shoot 90% for the season I’ll shave my head!” That got his attention, plus all of his teammates. I figured my hair was as safe as an Old Spice  deodorant stick in a middle school boy’s locker room.

Through the first 14 games of the season Verle did not shoot a free throw, and then in Game #15 he got fouled and got two shots. The first shot hit every part of the rim, bounced off the backboard, rolled around three times, stopped for coffee, took a nap…and then fell through. I called timeout to ice my own shooter, but Verle calmly stepped to the line and sank the second free throw after the timeout.

Those were the only two free throws he shot the whole season! I did not qualify my promise very well. Years from now Verle will be telling people that he was the leading free throw shooter on his 9th Grade team.

Tonight we have our team banquet at 5:00. At 6:30, Darla, my friend and barber, will be coming to the school to shave me down! And so today I had to worry about shampoo for the last time for the next couple of weeks or so. I had to pick up my comb and put the part in the left side of my hair. I’ve let it grow out for a while because I knew this day was coming. For the past couple of weeks I’ve resembled a college philosophy professor. The hair has started to curl around my ears. Two more weeks and I could have done one of those “man buns”!

Verle and his teammates are pumped for tonight’s festivities. They will feast on barbecue and all the fixings before their coach gets fixed! I made sure Darla would come and give me the buzz instead of one of them. I could just imagine Verle with an electric hair trimmer in his hands. As it is, his hair looks like two rows of wheat bowing over in the wind. I could just imagine what permanent damage he would do to the top of my scalp.

“Hey! Did you have some skin cancers on the top of your scalp and have to have some radiation treatments?”
“No, I had one of my basketball players give me a haircut!”

When Darla hits the ON switch tonight the chanting will start in a circle around her. The whooping will reverberate around the school cafeteria. My players will break into their usual rendition of “Who Let The Dogs Out?” and, hopefully, Darla’s hands will remain steady in the midst of her laughter.

And at the end I’ll resemble one of those Thanksgiving turkeys that have had all of their feathers plucked!

I’ve got to remember to bring a hat tonight! Wide brim, and one that sinks down low on my head!

Growing Up Clean

June 16, 2014

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                   June 16, 2014

 

                                    

 

There are some families who are well acquainted with dirt. It is welcomed into the house like the family dog, reclining wherever it pleases and shaking itself into a cloud of castoffs.

My family was different. Dirt, mud, and the other suspects were expected to stand at attention at the door and not advance from there. Our house was clean. The bald head of Mr. Clean was featured prominently in the closet, ready for action.

I wasn’t that into it! You might say that it was mandated to me to be clean. A bath at night, brushing my teeth, even cleaning my plate…those were like Biblical commandments. My underwear and socks always needed to be clean, also, because the threat of being in an accident and being found with dirty underwear was always a dreaded possibility. So every morning I had to make sure I put on a clean pair of Towncraft tighty-whities! My mom worked at Penney’s, so Towncraft was the only option for our family in those days.

My dad was clean…in a different way! Yes, his clothes were always neatly folded, but his cleanliness could be seen in tasks. When he sliced a tomato or an onion it was almost always a clean cut…a perfect slice ready to grace the top of one of his hamburgers. When he cleaned the grill it shone! The inside of the family car was always pristine. The lawnmower was seldom dusted with grass clippings, because Dad would keep it clean.

Mom was like an army sergeant inspecting the barracks. She would come in the living room right when the latest episode of Combat was at its tense climax and tell me that my room looked like a tornado had hit it. I was beg for a few minutes of “clean leave”, but would always be denied. Down the hallway I would run only to discover that the extent of the bedroom tornado damage was a bedspread slightly uneven in its slope down the side, and a closet door halfway open. To Mom “clean” was a state of utopia that could not be allowed even the hint of chaos.

My hair was clean…not from shampoo but rather from the barber. I was buzzed clean until I was in high school. Sometimes a few hairs in front were given amnesty, but the rest of my head resembled Mr. Clean.

When I look back on those days I realize that our family didn’t have much, but our house was always so spic and span we just thought our lack of clutter was because we were neat freaks.

Cleanliness was next to godliness, and our house was so clean we could touch godliness with a white glove!