My Last Good Haircut (please finish this story)

[fat dad]

The last time I went to a barber shop was just before the election of 2004. The young lady who cut my hair that day was a woman I will never forget. She was that breathtaking embodiment of young motherhood. Capturing a rare depth of innocence and sweetness, yet practical, day to day strength, common sense and pragmatism.

We talked about how she worked two and half jobs to support her three babies. She missed her babies but wanted to give them all the things they deserved. She was a wise and strong and beautiful single mother.

We talked about how the government had cut so many programs that had helped her to take care of those babies. How she now worked at three different places.

A married, middle aged, out of shape, and unattractive old man, I found myself falling in love with this woman. Gratefully. She reminded me of my wife when we first dated. When my babies were first born and how my wife created beauty for our children, even though our life was such a struggle. She reminded me of my grandmother who raised seven brothers and sisters during the Depression. Like the kids of all of the great women in my life, I knew this young woman's kids had to be happy, secure, and on the path to good things.

The young woman who cut my hair that day was African-American. The city she cut my hair in was North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina--the city that Jerry Falwell takes his family to vacation.

A beach resort 'city' that, like so many beach towns, has a main road - Ocean Boulevard - which runs parallel to the ocean. Cept in Myrtle Beach, Ocean Blvd. does not run the full length of the coast. You can travel for hundreds of miles in either direction but then suddenly OB stops dead at large concrete barriers, blockaded like the West Bank from greater Israel. The road ends at a place called Atlantic Beach, the only "Black Beach" in the US. The city of Myrtle Beach put up concrete blockades, killing a main thoroughfare, diverting all thru-traffic out and away from the only all Black Beach in the US to keep respectable white tourists from the imposed squalor of Atlantic Beach.

You have to travel due west, away from the water in Myrtle Beach, return to Highway 17, and then backtrack a few blocks up and away before again backtracking and heading east again to the Atlantic Ocean beaches, and Ocean Blvd. Ocean Blvd. dies in Myrtle Beach when it reaches Atlantic Beach-- the Black Beach.

They say the fire trucks won't go into Atlantic Beach until the buildings have half burned out, and then, the county won't issue a permit to rebuild. They say that the city of Myrtle Beach, that Horry County, hopes that soon they'll be able to open up Ocean Blvd. again. All the way through. Soon as Atlantic Beach is gone.

The young woman cutting my hair knew all of this about the ignorance causing the cut-off of her all Black home town. She knew that Myrtle Beach was among the most Republican places in the US. She knew that it was the Republican Party who cut school funding and day care and sports and art and all aid for Atlantic Beach. She knew that her brother had lost half a leg, 'right up to the knee', in a Republican war that was all about oil.

I think about Atlantic Beach whenever I think about Katrina.

Talking to her, I wished I was twenty years younger. Shit, ten years younger. Or someone else. Not in any trumped up, tacky-ass, Myrtle Beach Viagra comb-over sorta way. But wishing for her just as someone I wished was a family member. Someone who would smile with us all when my grandkids blew out their birthday candles.

After everything we'd talked about, I figured it was an afterthought that she planned to vote for Kerry, vote for change. That, if nothing else, she'd be moved by the southern "son of a mill worker" message of John Edwards. But I was wrong.

She said that Kerry seemed like a nice man but that if she didn't vote for Bush that the end times would surely come. She said that we needed Bush because he was a moral, Christian man. The same religion which I knew had created the peaceful, strong beauty of this perfect young woman, now became the bewildering blind alley. What do you say to someone so kind, so loving, so perfect? Do you attack her religion? Tell her that everything she believes, everything that keeps her motivated, and humble, and sincere; everything that keeps bitterness from her is wrong?

How does a corrupt and decaying old man counter such truck in someone so young and pure and alive? Should I have brought up women's rights? Racism? Abortion and a woman's right to choose? The inequities of wealth, education and opportunity? For fucks sake, this young woman knew more about all of these than I could ever hope to imagine. There was also no doubt in my heart that she was a better person than I could ever hope to be. I saw that in the eyes of her kids from the photos on her workstation. Her kids looked like mine.

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I finally let my wife cut my hair a short while back. Three years of growth. At my age, you no longer look like a surfer or a biker when you let your hair grow. You just look like a wino.

I've left Myrtle Beach, moved back to Cleveland, and found work with a new liberal media venture. Begging ad dollars. You need a good haircut when you ask people for money.

Sometimes the writers and the editors let me in on the 'smart' side of the venture. The editorial policy meetings. The brainstorming. The eternal question is how do we get our message out. How do we overcome an adversarial mainstream media? A hijacked religion? Its becoming bitter obvious that we can't win by merely preaching to the choir.

Hell, I can't answer their questions. These people are some of the brightest minds I know. They're only asking me, probably hoping for a Forrest Gump epiphany. But I'm just a guy with a briefcase. Too ignorant, too simple, too desperate financially not to be embarrassed to ask for money from strangers.

I told the braintrust of this new venture about this woman. About that haircut three years ago. About an intelligent young, black woman, living in one of the most racially incorrect places in this country, still voting for George W Bush.

I watched and listened to their reaction to my story about this young girl. I compare their despair and their lack of faith with the certainty and positive self awareness and drive I saw in that young woman.

And ...

[michreject]

1. I'm an old hippie

I'm 53 and haven't had a haircut in 15 years.:)

[filer]

2. I'll turn 57 next month.

I've spent my adult life voting on the losing side of more elections than I care to remember. Lost another one just yesterday. I voted for the younger, more progressive candidate in a state senate primary runoff. His opponent, probably 20 years his senior, certainly more financially successful, ran on a more traditional, middle of the road agenda. He also vastly outspent his more idealistic contender, and as one last hedge, turned negative at the end. He won by 73 votes. In all candor, the winner will probably have a better chance of defeating the Republican in November.

The Republican party in Oklahoma marches lockstep to the hysterical rantings of the extreme religious right. They care very little about the suffering of the disadvantaged and everything about shoving their twisted and perverted "religious" dogma down the throats of everybody else. But they win election after election in Oklahoma. Perhaps the tide is turning. More likely, we still have a long way to go.

Yesterday I voted my heart and lost. In November I'll vote my common sense, and for the better man, and with hope, Oklahoma will win.

I tell you all this because I can offer no answers. You sir, have a kind and compassionate heart, and like many of us, a troubled soul. I wish I had the ending for your story. Unfortunately, after all these years, I'm still asking the same questions.

May peace be with you and keep the faith.