Hair Today – Memories Tomorrow
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“Cant live without them!”, thats what my mother always used to say about curling irons. “Liz, were just cursed, you know,” shed always say, “because our hair is not gorgeous or straight and it also is not curly enough to keep anything more than a lackluster limp spring at best.”
Its funny the things you remember after someone is gone. I always thought my mom would be there for all of the important events in my life, but in three short months after a diagnosis of cancer, she was gone. Thinking of all the times we didnt get to share makes me sad, so when I remember my mom I always try to think of the great times we did get to have together while she was still around.
Thinking of her hair advice always brings a smile to my face, so it is something I think of often. Having five sisters there were plenty of hair-raising tales growing up. Ill never forget the time when we went to Camp Minnetonka for girls weekend. Each time I think of that wild and crazy weekend, the first of many, I feel like I am transported back in time.
“Mom, mom, were almost there!” I say as an anxious 16-year old.
“I know dear. We will be there in about five minutes.”
Mom always knows our estimated time of arrival. She should know since shes been bringing my older sisters: Alice who is 35 years old, Agnes who is 33 years old, Jane who is 26 years old, Linda who is 21 years old, and Mary who is 18 years old. Together they had been coming up for this once-a-year weekend with mom since they each turned 16. It was a right of passage, you could say. This was to be my first year to get to tag along, having celebrated my 16th birthday just one short month ago. I cant help but be excited as we near our destination.
“Liz, calm down! Were just going to stay in cabins for the weekend, not going to see rock stars. Sheesh!” says Alice exasperatingly.
Thats Alice for you; the oldest and always the first to bring you back down to earth.
“Oh Alice, leave the poor kid alone.” chimes in Ag, “Shes excited and has every right to be. Its her first time up here. Youre not too old to remember your first time up here, are you? So, just cut Liz some slack.” God, I love Agnes. We may be 17 years apart in age, but we get along famously. Shes always been there for me when I needed her. She just seems to intuitively know when to step in on my behalf. I hope I grow up to be like her some day.
“Thank goodness were almost there,” Mary says as she squirms in her seat, “I have to pee really bad.”
When doesnt she have to pee? Every time theres work to be done, Mary can be counted on to skitter into any nearby restroom, thereby alleviating her of any chore needing to be done. Thats the way itd been most of my childhood, but it took me until adulthood to realize this manipulation technique. Quite clever of Mary, dont you think? Now, I bet, it was a tactic to get out of taking care of the luggage when we arrived. Shed rush off to the restrooms and not saunter back until the last piece of baggage had been unloaded and put away inside the cabin.
“Boy, is it humid out or what?” Linda steamily says.
Poor Linda, the only one of us to be blessed with more than just a limp lackluster curl or two, and always having her hair end up plastered to the nape of her neck with the heat. Her flaming red hair with all of its natural curl ends up looking more like a long Afro than anything with any sort of style. The biggest problem for her was that her hair appeared much shorter than it really was because it had all those tightly wound curls.
“Linda, you really need to find a way to put your hair up, at least in the back,” Jane chorused in, “thats why its so hot for you now.”
Jane, Jane, Jane. A gorgeous, chiseled square jaw line, perfect body, long flowing hair, and a great smile to boot. Men didnt stand a chance once she flashed them a smile. What I wouldnt give to be her for a day! What a life she must lead.
With that, we arrived at our destination, Camp Minnetonka. Out we all clamored with Mary quickly departing for the restrooms and the rest of us unloading and bringing the bags to our cabin. When all the unloading was done and we were settled in our cabin it was time for the fun to begin. As family tradition would have it we set about getting our first dinner prepared and moved the furniture around so that we could have our sessions after dinner.
Dinner was scrumptious, homemade baked beans, Caesar salad, fresh sliced fruit, and burgers on the grill. Agnes was quite handy with the portable grill wed brought along. The rest of us cut fruit and prepared the salad while Mom went about cooking up her famous baked beans. Our cabin wouldnt qualify as a five-star hotel by any means, but it was fully furnished and quite homey too. Everyone was satisfied and stuffed as we rolled ourselves over to the living room for the evenings entertainment – our sessions – hair experimenting sessions, that is.
The older siblings began by pouring themselves a glass of wine, while the rest had some fresh-squeezed lemonade. From what Id heard, the evenings became more hilarious the older you got. I think the alcohol had something to do with that, but Id have to wait years to find that out. For now, we took our appointed seats in our makeshift assembly line. It actually looked more like a bunch of train cars parked one after the other; ready to leave the station at a moments notice. We had preheated curling irons, curling brushes, and a flat iron before we began dinner. Our vast array of hair care products covered the coffee table. By evenings end, every bottle would be tried and every curling wand would be tested.
The evening began with Mom working on Lindas hair, because her hair was the toughest in the bunch. So we sat from front to back: Linda, Mom, Mary, Alice, Liz, Agnes, and Jane. Things started calmly enough with each person taking a heated appliance to begin straightening or curling anothers hair. In between each section of hair being primped, came a swig of wine for Mom and the oldest 4 sisters. As the wine bottles were opened one by one, the hairstyles became wilder and the hair stylists burst into giggles at nearly everything that happened. No one could look at their own hairstyle until its completion, so the constant chortling could either make you burst into laughter at what