Ron Gets a Haircut

Leaving my barber yesterday with my $12 haircut - refreshed!

Yesterday I got a haircut.  This is my first haircut since my freak accident February 18th. 

When I got home I took my first shower since my surgery March 10th.  Ask me if I felt like a new Ron. Yes!

I was hesitant to make the trip to downtown Lewes and my barber to get a haircut.  Getting in and out of the car and navigating my walker into the barber shop.  And then once in the barber shop how would I keep my braced left leg straight?  But I just couldn't imagine not getting a haircut for another two months, the length of time it will take for my leg to heal. I'm not one of these guys who ever went for the long haired look.  The longest I ever had my hair was back in 1982 and then it still wasn't half over my ears as was the fashion back then.  I've always favored short hair.  I just don't like messing with my hair. Especially now since I have a receding hairline that leaves only a "peninsula" of hair on my forehead.  Unlike most of my friends who have NO hair on their head, my father's genes did leave me with SOME hair, which I do not color by the way. I do color my beard but haven't since my accident.  Hence the white beard which automatically adds ten years to my age.

The longest I ever let m hair grow - 1982 - note that my ears are totally visible

When I was younger I actually had too much air, if you can believe that.  I had a whole routine to try and control my hair like putting a towel on my head after a shower to tame it.

Me in 1968 trying to control my thicket of hair

My Mom, who always wanted a girl (she had three boys), didn't have my hair cut for the first two years of my life.  When she took me out in public she was often greeted with "What a pretty little girl!"  Finally, one day my father had enough and insisted that she take me to a barber to get a haircut.  She said "That's when you lost your lovely curls."
Now I know what some of you are thinking, "That's why Ron is gay, his Mom raised him as a girl."  Well, I don't know.  I did like to cut out paper dolls and play with dolls.  I wasn't too big on cap guns and playing soldier (until later though when G.I. Joe came out and he was cute).  

Me, before my first haircut and when I "lost my curls)

For most of my adult life and still, my barber "thins out" my hair (now only in the back) because it is so thick.  

My previous barber (Joe Ursini) in Downingtown - 2001

Back in 1979, during my heyday in the gay scene I maintained a health mop of hair.  This is an oil portrait that was done of me in Provincetown, Mass.  Bill says it doesn't look like me at all but I think it does.  My eyes are a little too big but otherwise I think the artist captured my likeness quite well.

Me - oil portrait - 1979

When I had more hair in the front I actually had some blond streaks which isn't surprising since my father was a blond as well as one of my brothers, both Isaac.  These days my naturally dark brown hair has gray on the sides, which is probably all the gray I will get because my father had no gray at all.  Neither did his brothers.  I get the gray from my Mother's side of the family. No snow white head for me.

My father (and me) about two weeks before he died in August 2000 - not a gray hair on his head

So these days folks I'm quite content to shave down to the bare essentials on what hair I have left.  Gone are the days when I had a pompadour to contend with.

Me at 16 years of age (1958) - way too much hair to contend with

Yes folks, these days I am happy with my current hair style.  So easy to take care of. My barber takes the electric razor and just shaves.  Takes only a few minutes and I have the Look.

Me and a former classmate at my 40th Class reunion 1999

Me and my co-worker at First Financial Bank Downingtown, PA 2001

 See how I veer off the subject of getting a haircut yesterday?  Regular readers of my blog know that when I write a blog post I just let my thoughts flow from my head to my finger tips and let the post go down whatever path it finds.  Much like an overflowing river finds new paths for the backed up water.  That's me with my memories and thousands of photos.  

Well, it wasn't easy getting to my barber's yesterday.  Bill had to load me in the car with my walker then unload me.  Then I had to traverse myself into the barber shop on a very uneven sidewalk.  Then once in the barber shop I had to figure out how to sit down, keeping my left leg straight.  Then when it was my turn I had to figure out how to sit in the barber chair, still keeping my left leg straight.  First the barber chair was too too . . . ouch!  Then it was too high and all the blood was going down to my swollen left foot.  Finally we got the "Goldielocks" (just right) position on the barber chair and she commenced to shave my head.  And this folks is the result.  Looks good doesn't it? Well, I think it does anyway.

So how is my leg recovery going? I still need my walker (and will for another two months).  I asked my health care worker which was worse, a broken leg or my ruptured quadriceps.  She said "Oh yours is much worse, it takes a lot longer for tissue to heal than does bone."  Well, aren't I lucky?  I would have thought it would take longer for bone to heal but what do I know?  

My biggest problem now, other than being almost totally dependent on Bill (which is starting to get to him now, you have two months to go Bill), is my left foot swelling up.  The only relief I get is when I sleep at night. I'm unconscious and when I wake up in the morning my foot isn't a swollen.  But I can't stay in bed all day.

Soon this nightmare will be over.  Two months soon.  What keeps me going is the knowledge that my injury could have been much worse or even tragic.  I could have been knocked unconscious and died in that cold alley (five windy degrees) that night.  Or I could have broken my hip for fractured my skull.

I believe everything happens for a reason. I think the reason this happened for me is to make me pause and take a new look at life and appreciate what I have.  My health, home and life.  

I don't know how many years I have left nor do I know if I have yet another health crises waiting for me in the future but what I do know is that when I am well again, and moving about normally on my two legs I'm going to enjoy life and not waste time complaining or worrying about things I cannot change.  

Spring is here folks.  The daffodils are blooming and my leg is healing.  Life is looking good.