I’m naturally hairy. My chest, back, arms, legs, and unmentionable areas of my body are thick with hair. And the hair on my head is longer now than it’s been in many years. That’s due to the lockdown. I haven’t been to a barber since February. I’m reminded of men’s hairstyles thirty or forty years ago when shoulder-length hair was the vogue. I’m looking like I did back then, except that these days my hair and beard are white.

I’m able to trim my mustache, beard, and sideburns. Granted, I’m not very good at it, and the results look sloppy. It doesn’t matter much, because when I go out, that part of me is covered with a mask. But I can do nothing with all that hair on my head. It festoons over my ears and the back of my neck like an out-of-control waterfall.

I wince when I look in the mirror and see what resembles a street bum with wild and wooly hair. I’m beckoned back to 1967 when the musical Hair was a hit. Here are the words of the song at its center:

She asks me why, I’m just a hairy guy
I’m hairy noon and night, hair that’s a fright
I’m hairy high and low, don’t ask me why, Don’t know
It’s not for lack of bread, like the Grateful Dead

Darlin’, give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there hair, shoulder length or longer
Here, baby, there, momma, everywhere, daddy, daddy
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair

Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas, (yeah) a hive to bees, (yeah) a nest for birds
There ain’t no words for the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair

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