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What's the Subject of This Class? (Being revised.)
Why
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Writing
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The Hair
Connection and the Nature of Choices
by Forrest D. Poston
Family and high school friends have often asked why
I decided to let my hair grow. Decide? Sure,
it was my life, and I was particpating in it, but that
doesn't mean there was a decision. That makes me start to
wonder how many things we decide, and how many we just
create bit by bit until we wake up and find the matter
long settled without intent, decision, or even a clue.
Of course, as long as I lived at
home, it wasn't my decision. When Dad said go to the
barber, I went. If he said go back, I went
back. That was fine because I had no real interest
in the length of my hair. As long as it wasn't like
when a new barber came to town when I was about six.
For the next several weeks, every kid in the neighborhood
wore a hat, and since I was a younger brother, my black
cowboy hat got appropriated.
When I eventually moved away from
home, I didn't decided to prove my independence by growing
long hair. I was busy, broke, and lazy, and probably
still a bit paranoid about letting a stranger wave sharp
objects around my head. The hair grew while I wasn't
paying attention. Then there was the time I shaved
too quickly and cut myself just above the upper lip.
While that was healing, a moustache grew. Okay, the
rest of the beard was my choice. After all, it went
well with the long hair and moustache. It also meant
saving money on razors and shaving cream.
And I starting getting noticed in
ways that never happened in high school. Sure,
shyness and plaid polyester hadn't helped back then, and I
was ready to take what attention I could get. Of
late, when I hear, "My, you have lovely hair," I turn and
find a great-grandmother type with blue hair, but a
compliment is a compliment. Even more fun is when a
young sales clerk comes up from behind and says, "Can I
help you, m'am?" I turn a little slowly, drop my
voice to the lowest register I can manage and answer, "Why
yes, thank you." Then I smile a little more for each
shade of red they achieve.
Also, back in high school, no one
ever said that I reminded them of anyone. I was just
the guy in polyester and wearing those black plastic
glasses long before Charlie Sheen made them cool.
Students have compared me to Jesus, and to John the
Baptist, probably on a day when my hair was expressing its
more willful side. They may have hoped that such
comparisons would result in a higher grade, but that
probably didn't motivate the student who compared me to
former cult leader David Koresh. As I've gained
weight, comparisons with Jerry Garcia have become more
frequent. It seems to happen most often when going
through the drive-thru at any Rally's restaurant. I don't
know what the connection is between Garcia and Rally's,
but there may be a connection with the weight gain.
Today, a cashier said that I
looked like the offbeat scientist in Independence Day, not
the Jeff Goldblum character. She meant the guy who
gets strangled, another whimsical hair day for me. I
have enough ego to keep my hair long while it still gets
attention, but now one of my goals is to someday be
compared to a living person, or at least someone who died
at a ripe, even over-ripe, old age.
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Other Essays and Poetry
Something
Somewhat
Vaguely
Like a Resume
Being
Like
Children
The
Blessing and the Blues
The
Cat With a Bucket List
David
and the Revelation
The
Dawn, the Dark, and the Horse I Didn't Ride In On (an
odd, meandering, semi-romantic story)
Ghost
Dancer
in the Twilight Zone
The
Hair Connection and the Nature of Choices
The Mug,
the Magic, and the Mistake
Trumpet
Player,
USDA Approved
Videos
Poetry
Selected
Poems
The
Poetry
Process
Writing by Current or Former Students
Ms.
Write Meets Her Match in Jr. Ms. Write Now
by Heide Perry
I'll
Just
Have Cats
by Cara Hummel
Toys
to
Toys
by Allyson Bowlds
Scribbles
and Bits
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