Wednesday, May 20th, 2020 is going to be a red-letter day for me.

The stars and planets will align, the seas will part, and the angels will sing—just for me.

At 4:00 p.m. that day, I will get a haircut.

Glory hallelujah.

I get my hair cut every 3-3 ½ weeks. A day or two past that, and all bets are off. Quite simply, it just doesn’t work any other way, and I’m better off not leaving the house.

My last haircut was March 25th. On Thursday, when I get back in the chair, it will be almost two months since my last cut. And, if this is the worst thing that has happened to me in that time, then I consider myself extremely fortunate, because I am.


Gail and Suzanne are in the same boat, just like everyone else. Suzanne, in her usual style, is planning to experiment with her hair length and style, and she is not disclosing any further details at this time. She does, however, color her own hair; she has for years. She claims she has gray to cover, but I’ve never seen it.

Gail is going with the flow, and is in no hurry to get back to her stylist. And Gail, in contrast to her two younger sisters, has no gray hair. Not even one. I looked recently. And, she doesn’t color her hair. It is the same brown it has been for years.

Now, if you know Gail, you know she lets things slide off her back, choosing not to perceive much of anything as stress, things that would be stressors for lesser people—like me. Which explains why she has no gray, and I do. But not much, so I am not going to complain. I have dabbled in self-coloring, but right now, it is the real deal, with the last vestiges of color having grown out long ago.

Our mother, at 71, had very little gray hair for a woman her age. I am nearly a physical clone of my mother, so I must have inherited that from her.  I’ll take it.


I can’t find it at the moment, but I promise you that when I do, I will post my fourth-grade picture with a stylish do that is similar to the one I have been forced to wear lately. In that picture, my bangs are pulled over from left to right with a barrette into a crisp, nearly right-angle, much like the effect the necessary hairpin is causing in my hair in this picture, taken earlier today. I even tried to duplicate the cheesy grin in the picture.


In my last post, GROW, I wrote about plant growth. Hair growth, as another of nature’s wonders, may not be as beautiful. Thankfully, we have talented professionals who make hair cutting and styling an art form. Sharolyn, my beautician extraordinaire, is one of them. And, once every July when she visits, my dear friend Amy works her magic on my hair. I don’t know what I would do without these two wizards. When the thought of NOT getting a haircut for several months became a likely reality with the shutdown, I will confess, that for one or two fleeting moments, I was sure I would have to take matters—and a pair of scissors—into my own hands. So far, I have resisted that urge.

Suzanne and I were recalling the morning years ago when our little brother woke up with his bangs askew after going to bed with them wet.   We laughed at him, but he didn’t think it was funny. He was probably four years old, and he did take matters—and scissors—into his own hands. He left the room quietly, and came back a few minutes later without bangs. That recollection has kept me from cutting my own hair in these last few weeks.

I think I can hang on until Wednesday.


I have written about one of Mom’s favorite books several times. Simple Abundance is a daybook, with a page of wisdom for every day of the year. Some days are more meaningful than others. Some are profound, and some haven’t stirred much thought after I read them. My birthday page—April 17th—was one such easily dismissed page. Until this year, that is. Making Peace With Your Hair didn’t speak to me until several weeks ago, when I was supposed to have my hair cut the day before.

Clearly, this entry has heightened meaning for me. I will never again take the services of my beautician for granted. Again, this inconvenience is small potatoes compared to the health and economic crises many people are facing in these crazy times, so I will let it be.

I’ll keep the peace with my hair no matter how it looks, and I will continue to pray, hope and wish for peace in these crazy times.


Ban Breathnach, S.  (1995). Simple Abundance. New York: Warner Books