Posted on June 1, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Perm, highlights or shadow wave?

 

“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”

Hair. The Cowsills

 

BREAKING NEWS. HAIR SALONS OPENING ON JUNE 5^TH.

It’s the big reveal. We’re about to come out of our Covid caves and face the world in all of our human imperfections. We’ve all added a bit of heft as the path to our refrigerators has been worn down to the floorboards. We may have added a few wrinkles to our brows worrying about the fate of the planet, our families and our jobs. Our speech may be a bit halted as we haven’t had much practice talking in recent months. But nowhere, has the pandemic bared its teeth most obviously than the tops of our head. We can hide a few extra pounds with loose fitting clothing, and cover our faces with masks, but unless we wear a shawl or a Stetson, our hair will be on full display.

Hair used to matter a lot to me, especially during my university days when I carried a rather large bush on the top of my head. Long hair was prevalent, a sign of penury and protest. Why waste money on a haircut when you could buy a bottle of Ruby Rouge or Golden Glow. I can see you nodding your heads at the recognition of these two fine specimens of the nectar of the gods. And lest we forget, there was the forgettable Hermit’s wine, that exquisite plonk with a delicate bouquet. Hermit’s “red” (the color of blood) was a fighting wine while the “white” was a dancing wine. I digress.

“Does she, or doesn’t she? Only her hairdresser knows for sure.” This was a famous ad created by Clairol back in the 1950s. This week, more than one’s hairdresser might discover the true color of people’s hair. I expect to see a big uptick in the sale of hoodies in the next few days as people skulk from their homes, possibly in the cover of darkness, to get to their hair salons. A hair-raising experience to be sure.

No amount of hair dye will stop the aging process. Just sayin.

Of course, we could opt to let our hair keep growing. We could rage against aging. We could infuse our hair with patchouli oil, wear a headband and trot out our torn blue jeans, and tie-dyed t-shirts. We could “let it all hang out”. Groovy. Far out.

When my sparse hair started going sideways in March, I made the painful decision to just shave it off. Of course, being quarantined made this exercise somewhat easier as the only person I had to face for a few weeks was myself. So now, instead of rushing out to the Campus Clipper this week (sorry, NJ)  for my pandemic coif, I will head to the drugstore to get more razor blades and shaving cream.

Highlights or a perm? Here’s one person who won’t ever have to make this agonizing choice again. I won’t ever have to blow dry my afro with an industrial sized vacuum cleaner again. I won’t have to purchase hair shampoo. I will be gifting my hairbrushes, combs, and afro picks. These will not be a part of my will. My children will remain heirless.

Hair today… gone tomorrow.

Have a great weekend.

 

 

Posted on May 28, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

 

Me and my great friend, Virginie (France)

 

 

“When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high

And don’t be afraid of the dark,

At the end of the storm, there’s a golden sky,

And the sweet silver song of a lark.

You’ll Never Walk Alone – Gerry and the Pacemakers

One year ago, today, I was wrapping up the most incredible experience of my life. I completed the Camino in Spain. With over 1,000,000 steps and 713 kilometers, I walked into the city of Santiago de Compostela with Virginie Gatel, a young French woman who had the dubious honor of spending the last two days of this epic walk with an aging bald man from Canada. As we entered the city triumphantly, with badly blistered feet, we were arm in arm singing “We Are The Champions’. I know it sounds corny, but it was very emotional. We weren’t champions but we sure felt like we were.

Walking the Camino is a test of endurance, but it is so much more than this. The Camino has its roots in an ancient pilgrimage and present-day walkers are referred to as pilgrims or perigrinos. While some people still walk the route from St.Jean Pied de Port France to Santiago de Compostela Spain as a spiritual exercise, a larger percentage are there for other reasons. Many come for adventure while others come carrying a burden or simply to get out of the rat race for a month.

People from all walks of life come from every corner of the planet and leave as changed people.

Is it the tranquility of the Spanish countryside that uplifts people? Do the physical demands increase endorphins? Does the plethora of churches provide spiritual nourishment? Is one inspired by pilgrims who walked these exact paths over 1000 years ago?  Do the fantastic wines of Spain also lift spirits? That’s an easy one! It’s all of these but so much more.

There is something magical about the Camino that’s difficult to describe. You start off as one person and end up as a community of fellow travelers. You walk with them. You share meals with them. You share cramped quarters in one of the many alburgues (hostels). You discuss your innermost feelings with total strangers who feel like your best friend after walking for two hours together, stopping occasionally to bandage each other’s feet.

If you were to poll anyone of the hundreds of thousands of people who have completed this journey, my guess is that most of them would cite camaraderie at the top of their list of what made their journey so memorable. Even when language is a barrier, a smile, a thumbs up, a pat on the back or a hug more than compensate for the inability to understand a foreign language. Friendship doesn’t require a language. Symbols of a shared journey and affection for fellow pilgrims is what defines the Camino.

I know that it’s not helpful to dwell on the past. We all need to keep moving forward. This is especially true these days as we ponder the world we inhabited a scant three months ago- a world that has changed so dramatically. The pandemic has left us with deep scars, blisters of a very different variety. But, like blisters, we will heal, although the recovery time will likely be much longer. We are walking through an incredible storm and we must believe in a golden sky sometime in the future , however long it takes.

As we inch our way forward into an uncertain future, it might be a good time to take a page out of the Camino. While hugs are still verboten, we can still give a thumbs up and a smile to a neighbor or a friend. Like the Camino, we’re all on this path together.

May we hear the sweet silver sound of a lark one of these days.

Have a great weekend.

 

A toast to the end of the Camino

Posted on May 25, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with 3 comments

The glass is half full

 

“Ooh, what a lucky man he was

Ooh, What a lucky man he was.

Lucky Man – Emerson, Lake and Palmer

Why I am a lucky man.

The accident of birth brought me into this world in this small community in rural Nova Scotia almost 69 years ago. Every time I contemplate this number, I momentarily shudder until I realize that while the pace of life continues to accelerate, I am so fortunate to have made it this far. My father and younger brother were not so lucky.

My hometown is not perfect but pretty damn close. We have hummed along nicely since 1889. We live in a part of the world that is blessed with mostly good weather, avoiding major catastrophes. We don’t have a lot of heavy industry in this part of the province blessing us with clean air and clean water. Ocean breezes refresh us, and we are surrounded by rolling hills and lots of forests. Our economy has always been quite stable with a university and regional hospital as major anchors of the economy. Farming, fishing, forestry, and tourism round out the picture. Covid-19 will test our resolve, but we have shown resilience in the past.

Our roots in the Cooperative movement are in the collective DNA of the community.

I am lucky to have been born into the MacDonald/O’Flaherty family. Both my father and mother’s families were musical, and this gift continues to be passed down to our offspring. My parents left us with good compasses to navigate our way through this challenging piece of work called life. My siblings are good people and are a great source of strength and comfort especially when the road gets bumpy. Nobody is guaranteed a smooth ride.

My children continue to inspire me. They are making their way during a very tumultuous and unpredictable time. They make beautiful music when they have the chance to get together and even when they can’t physically be there, the wonders of the internet and technology allow them to share their music with others. They are socially conscious and responsible citizens. Betty has supported me and allowed me to pursue many adventures. Our grandchildren. Well, I’ll just let you choose your own words. Most of my readers are north of 60 and many of you have grandchildren so rather than me gush, you already know what I am going to say.

I am especially lucky to have inherited my mother’s energy. I am frequently asked about my apparent zest and passion for life and the energy that this entails. I always point to mom. She was an unstoppable force and the word “can’t” never crossed her lips. She didn’t always succeed in everything she did, but she was never afraid to try. Ditto for my late brother, Tom.

I am so, so lucky to have friends including those of you who are reading this post. Many of you I know quite well, some not so much , and, a handful of you that somehow stumbled upon my website, not at all. Having friends is every bit as important as air, water and food.

At this point in my life, having good health is the thing that makes me feel like a jackpot winner every day. I know that this will not be the case forever. One never knows what is around the next turn in road’s life.

Yes, I am truly a lucky man and I am consciously grateful of my good fortune.

Have a great week.