My grandmother has been perusing my various forms of internet presence since she recently bought her own laptop (and I’m so proud she’s delved into this new world of technology), and she’s been e-mailing me her input on my various entries in blog and other forms.
So when she came to this particular Thing on my list, she e-mailed me to tell me about another time when I had a mohawk.
I was about 3, she believes. My grandfather had agreed to take me to get my hair cut since it was around Thanksgiving and things were pretty busy in the house. So we walked down the street to the barber’s.
As my grandfather passed away when I was 6 and I can’t remember the day in question, no one knows what happened between the time we left and the time we got back, but my grandmother does remember nearly having a heart attack when we BOTH walked in the house with mohawks.
I was permitted to keep it for one day, and then I was taken back to the barber shop to get my head shaved. My grandfather got his shaved too, but he wasn’t any happier about it.
I like this story a lot, because I don’t have a lot of memories of the old man. The only thing I’m ever told about him is that he was an intolerable drunk, but I know I loved him. So now, I have a new reason to get a mohawk, and it’s going to be so much more fulfilling now.
(There’s a picture somewhere, she says, of both of us. Once it’s found and scanned, I’ll post it up!)
