Resurrection of the Follicle

by Simone on December 22, 2011

I still talk about my grandmother a lot.
Without her I don’t know that I would have survived my childhood. She was the one who introduced me to love, good deeds, poodles, silver dollars, home made pastas and the Beauty Parlour culture. I would set myself up at the bar with the wigs clamped to them, style them and pretend I was Gene Rayburn. My grandmother was kind, generous, very wise and had a contagious laugh. She was a natural teacher. She taught me of the golden rule. She was big into making sure we felt good about ourselves and our behaviour by the time we went to bed. If we came up short, we were to make amends as quickly as possible. She wanted to make sure we all got an “A” when waiting at the pearly gates.

Salvation Mountain

Many kids adore their grandparents. I hung on every word and action. The older folks had curious and wonderful outlooks on life. That’s what was so cool about hanging with them. I learned all about the baby Jesus in the manger and how his parents had so little money that Jesus’s parents couldn’t afford to patronize the Beauty Parlour. I know feet were washed, was the hair?

wow man

Anyhow,in the 70’s my grandmother was greatly disturbed and fascinated by Hippies. She loved macrame, was tres’ artistic in her own right, and had a house full of rosin grapes in every colour. Flower power was right up her alley, but incense and Patchouli wasn’t. She said Italians didn’t wear Patchouli. But here was a lot of hair, and much of it was on men wearing “Jesus sandals”. She would squinch up her face and say “he looks like Jesus”. She sure knew an awful lot of intimate details about him,. I was pretty sure she must have done his hair at one point, clients do tend to tell all when under our spell. She knew his birthday was not December 25, she knew that he primarily wore sandals, she knew that like her, he was a magician in the kitchen and could work wonders with fish and bread, She knew that he was a lover, not a fighter, that he died on a cross, wore a lot of white dresses, but she wasn’t exactly sure what the nexus was between J.C. and the Easter Bunny. Like most grown-ups, she just rolled with it and stayed on point dying hardboiled eggs and making ravioli for the big family festivities.

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I find that many women have very distinct memories of their grandmother. Sadly many of them are not fond. Many Grandma’s were feared. Grandmotherly wisdom was a hot topic last week in the salon. Grandma Katie only spoke Croation. She taught her granddaughters how to steal candy. She was also very interested in farts (which she called “the gomala”) and Poop.

God's creation awaits Grandma Katie

Grandma Katie would excitedly burst into the W.C. to stir the contents of the toilet with a wooden spoon making sure the creation was just right.


G.P.’s grandma was German, removed and not much fun, but she felt sure that eating a banana was the answer to almost anything.

Another betty G.F, said her grandma spoke a foreign language and seemed to hate her grandchildren, but she taught them how take pride in making a warm, lovely, delicious bed and home, even on a meager wage. She also would exclaim “Oh my goodness, sakes alive!” in English (go figure!)  We discussed this saying at length in the Salon and it took hours to find a person who could intelligently explain what a SAKE actually was. The first brave client who took a stab at it was confident a SAKE was a fish. What a typical man answer. Anyhow, G.F. now says “oh my goodness sakes alive” to her grandbabies and they say it too!

Lisa Dell’s grandma, G.G.Grandma did not seem to hate her grandkids, but she was certainly not much of a smiler or a hugger or anything warm. She was big into civil rights, she belived that people needed to slow down, not move so much and enjoy what’s in front of their face. (translate to be present). She says there is no need to say “I’m sorry” when burping or farting at table. She says at her age (90) she’s said it enough!

It’s sad when there are missed opportunities, missed communications, missed moments that could equal love or laughter. Mouths remain closed, grudges are held, and everyone misses he boat.

….. And speaking of boats, my other grandmother gave me a thin hardback book on steam boats when I turned 9, which she said “would make sense when I got older”. It still hasn’t. Steam boats may be the only thing that does not come back to the follicle.

If you have a memory of your grandmother you would like to share, I would love to hear it. 😛

Do you have a story about doing hair or having your hair done? 
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project. Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.
If you have a friend who could use a lift today, I hope you’ll pass this on.






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