Some Things Are Worse Than A Bad Haircut
It was the night before my son (about age 10) and I were to leave for Bible Memory Association Camp in Ringgold, Louisiana. After it was too late to go to the barber, he decided that short hair would be real convenient. A good buzz would mean no fussing around with combs or towels after swimming. He could travel light.
Anxiously succumbing to mounting pressure, Mom tightly gripped the clippers. Here a clip, there a clip. A little off the right, a little off the left. Camp haircuts mustn't be sloppy.
But somewhere along the way, an important discovery evolved. A slip of the clippers will cut too deep--and not leave not enough hair to fix it. Still, balance was required, and a little-too-short on one side had to be matched on the other.
With hair about the length of peach fuzz, the too-deep notches were painfully obvious. At least to Mom. But blind to the obvious, the boy bounded upstairs to show off his wonderful buzz. One alarming look propelled me downstairs to find the perpetrator of this indignity. Mom was sitting on the side of the tub--bawling over the disaster.
No crisis for the boy. It was a w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l haircut, soon to be the envy of all the boys at camp. Nothing else could be done, so we went to bed. Mom and I were a bit anxious.
Our group convened early, but even the semi-darkness couldn't hide that haircut. Anna Favre, hands on her 10-year-old hips, holloed with undisguised shock and anger, "Barrett McAlister!" Discretely silent, adults stole furtive glances. After all, a boy who would be proud of hair like that might do anything.
Nothing else was ever said, but pictures speak louder than words. We don't know how, but a picture of the grinning peach head--deep notches and all--found its way into camp promotion materials sent over the world. A bad haircut can't be hidden.
The following week brought a compulsory visit to Mr. Eddie with instructions to smooth out the gashes as best he could.
For years, the boy would enthusiastically jab the camp pictures with his finger. "That's the best haircut I ever had!" But not long ago he took another look, finally absorbing the painful truth. "That's got to be the worst haircut in the world!" Funny how 10 years can change our view of things.
There's good news. The difference between a bad haircut and a good one is only about two weeks. The gashes can be smoothed over and eventually forgotten. A bad haircut is a minor problem.
Regretfully, many decisions can bring lifelong troubles, even affecting generations to come. But the vision of short-term convenience too often overrides a sober evaluation of long-term consequence.
I'll take the bad haircut any time. Just don't tell Mr. Eddie.
Copyright 2000 James McAlister
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