Funny, for two and a half years, I have been growing my hair long for the purpose, not to re-capture my youth, but to donate it to the 'Locks of Love Organization' in honor of my best friend Patti Lang who died Feb.'07 of a malignant brain tumor. I learned, while walking the path with her, that one of the devastating effects of the disease is hair loss and how it plays on one's psyche.
Well, Saturday was the big chop. I had reached the designated excess of the required "12 inches" and still had enough hair to cover my head. In good "Facebook" fashion, I posted the journey through visuals ... nothing better than photo's.
What I received were very unexpected accolades. "You are an amazing woman both inside and out", "Keep up the good work", type of comments. It caught me completely off guard. I wanted to shout, "Come on people, it is only "hair"! The photographic journal was to encourage others in some way to give in their own way.
I ascribe to the belief, "To much is given, much is required." I have always had a ton of hair and to people loosing their hair, growing it out was no big deal. Well, it kinda was. I did double time on hair wash days; shedding, shampooing, brushing, drying, flat ironing. It was definitely an arm work out. On the "wild hair" days, where I left it to dry naturally, I looked like I had stepped out of the jungle. Waves of raw curls streaming down my back and it was starting to get hot and sweaty in the heat. A pony tail holder was never too far out of reach to get some relief. It was a pain in the neck and wanted to take the scissors to the mop myself, at times as it wasn't always easy to tame.
Truth is, it really was no big deal. Can't say I like my new hair cut ... has a bit too many layers for my taste and I am going to have to wrestle with learning to style the new doo. When I took myself to the beach today, I no longer felt those cool locks drifting down my back or the hair blowing in the wind in those light jogs. I did feel, to some degree, younger with the long hair. As I gazed at the teens, they all had long straight hair. So did I. Did that make me a teen? Nope but it did make me a woman who remembered one terrific friend. The kind that was always there for me. You know, the "Hallmark" card kind of friendship.
Yes, that is what I had. There was raw truth between us. Laughter, memories and years. She fully accepted me and I her. The good, bad and ugly. She lite up the room, loosened me up and loved. When I get stressed, she was the one to "right me". She was there through many a trial I faced in difficult times and vice versa.
Running down the streets of Venice on New Year's Eve, back to the hotel to get the kids to see the fireworks in St. Mark's square ... I will never forget that night. Those small, narrow streets where two American women were running the opposite way against the crowd, me ahead of her and she saying, "Franny, I am going to have to start jogging, I can't keep up with you" and me yelling back, "Come on Patty Girl, we have to keep going, the kids are going to miss the fun". That trip was cancer in remission.
I nearly did not take the trip, because finances prevented me, but I decided in the end, to put it on a credit card and move forward. It took nine months to pay off but the debt is gone and the memories remain. I could expend countless characters writing the meaning of the friendship but in this world of succinct script on the pages of micro-blogging "Twitter", most are lost in the written word.
So, rather than expounding on the many angles this story could take, I end with this: In light of a friend, loved and lost, there is nothing heroic about growing hair out and cutting it. The true hero's are those that wrestle with the obstacles they face in life with grace and dignity, no matter what the outcome.
Patti was one such lady that walked everyone she knew through challenges and her own with grace. She would wake singing, "I feel good" ... which she sang nearly breathless towards the end of her life with hand motions to go with it. At times, when I am faced with the not so great things that cause tears to stream, I sing the song softly to myself.
Growing out and cutting my hair was nothing extraordinary. Sure, I appreciate the kind words, more than anyone understands, but the truth is, the act garnered more of the sense of "I feel good" for remembering Patty, doing something that would help someone, get through their grief with grace, through one very simple act.
What simple action can you take, not for compliments but for dipping into your treasures, your excess, in whatever form that is, to help someone else wake up singing, "I feel good"?
