MIKE INGLES
“The only thing that has changed in these past 40 years is time and car styles and the thinning of my hair…”
I have not had a haircut now for 1,000 days. My hair is longer now than it was back in 1970. It is no longer black, but it is white. Most of the time, I wear it in a ponytail. When I don’t, when I let it down, even I am shocked at how long it has grown, even though it is as thin as angel hair and as brittle as cold taffy. My wife says I’m starting to resemble Ben Franklin.
I’d like to find a pair of bellbottoms at a garage sale or a second-hand store; tough to do, my waist is no longer 30 inches—it’s 40. I have the love beads.
My wife hates my hair. She married this guy with long black thick hair, birds tried to nest in it, but, over the years, he has conformed. For forty years, my hair was short, parted on the left, cut when the length reached just above the ears. The hair-style came replete with a white shirt, tie, briefcase and drudgery. When my hairline started to recede, I combed it over and down at a 30 degree angle. No one could have possibly noticed.
One thousands days ago, I sat in a barber’s chair getting readied for my third daughter’s wedding. As I sat there, I couldn’t help but to consider all the time that had rushed by since she was just a tot. The radio was tuned to an old old-oldies station and the Cowsills “Hair” drilled at my brain. I had an epiphany—let it grow. Sure, I know you can’t turn back the clock. Time is an unforgiving master. But I could still make a familiar statement. Forty years ago, I believed in equality, I believed in peace, I believed that hope trumped despair, that fairness trumped discrimination, that love conquers hate.
Still do.
The only thing that has changed in these past 40 years is time and car styles and the thinning of my hair.
There’s still enough discrimination around, although, it’s centered more on Hispanic folks than black folks. There’s certainly enough war, more than enough poverty. Ditto—hate, misunderstanding and murder. Some children still go to bed, if not hungry then at least not quite full; some kids never see a dentist, never have a health care checkup.
This country still spends more money in military procurement a year than the next 19 countries combined. Since 1970 our country has been at war 17 of the 40 years. Although, less than 10,000 Americans have been killed at war in that time, some half-million civilians have sacrificed their lives for our ideals, mostly brown people. When we are not at war, we are stockpiling weaponry. We have twice as many soldiers stationed around the world than we did in 1970, when we were at the height of the Cold War. Our citizens own 30 million guns, but no one feels any safer. The number one killer of black teens is still murder. Soon, the number one killer of first graders will be automatic weapons. We have four times the number of people living in poverty nowadays. Four times the amount on government assistance. Little wonder my hair is white. I still use Prell Shampoo.
In 1970 I dreamed of flying cars. I thought, in 40 years that supermarkets would distribute food free-of-charge, and all we’d have to pay for would be shampoo and soda-pop. I though health care would be free and people would live to be 100. I thought a college education would be free. I thought that our country would be the light of the world; everyone would love us.
In Sweden, college is free, as is health care. There is virtually no poverty. No one goes to bed hungry. In 40 years, Sweden has never been to war. Hasn’t spent a dime on war. Not a nickel. You still must buy soda-pop, and they haven’t perfected flying cars yet.
Neither have we. Although, we have perfected flying drones able to kill, with certainty, from 10,000 feet. Mostly brown people, who don’t like us—don’t like us at all. In fact, they’d like to kill us. Not all of them—but enough so that we can justify building more weapons, making us feel—safer?
My wife doesn’t know it, but I’m thinking about dying my hair coal-black. And, I’m considering a beard and long white sideburns. Sideburns such as what Eric Clapton wore when he was with the band “Cream.” I’ve still got protest signs from the 60’s in the loft of my garage. The messages are the same. I’m considering changing shampoos from Prell to a cosmetic hair revitalizer. I thought, surely by now they would have invented a shampoo that could turn back the clock only 40 years and a software program that could teach me how to play the electric guitar like Clapton—bastards.
Mike Ingles is a freelance writer living in Ohio. He has a degree in American Literature from Franklin University, Columbus, Ohio. || duckrun2@aol.com
