Back in the early 70s, I had long, thick hair. I had graduated from college and had completed my stint in the army and decided, as they say, to “let my freak flag fly.”
But when it came time to find gainful employment, I discovered that my freak flag tended to shut more doors than it opened. My friends used to tell me that when I put on my best (and only) suit to go for a job interview, I looked like a hippie lawyer.
So eventually I decided that I needed to get a haircut in order to feed, clothe, and shelter myself. I walked into a barbershop, sat down in the chair, and told the barber to give me a trim. When he asked me how short, I panicked and jumped out of the chair. I figured I had enough cash to sustain me for another few months.
On that day, I almost cut my hair. About two months later, I did get a haircut…and a job.
For some reason, I could relate to this 1970 song by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.
Written for today’s Fandango’s One-Word Challenge, “almost.”
“But the polar ice caps are melting,” Alex said. “We need to do something to save those poor, starving polar bears, Dad.”
“I don’t know what we can do,” Dan said, “other than to contact our congressmen and tell them that climate change is real.”
Father and son continued walking along the isolated stretch of beach when Alex felt something cut into the sole of his foot. He removed his sandal and saw the spiky skeleton of a tiny sea horse. He picked up the sea horse’s remains and started to cry.
“Alex, why are you crying?” Dan asked.
“I’m crying for the polar bears and the sea horses and what we’re doing to our home,” he said.
Wrirren for today’s Three Things Challenge from Teresa. The three things are sandal, polar ice cap, and sea horse.
We were sitting in the back seat of my friend’s ‘57 Chevy Bel Air convertible, the top down as we headed across the Bay Bridge to Ocean City. Traffic was backed up for miles, as it often was on summer weekends, and the car was moving at barely five MPH.
I turned towards Gail to see what she was talking about and saw her looking up at the bridge structure overhead. As we passed slowly underneath, it was, indeed, mesmerizing.
I asked her to pass me the joint and took a deep hit. “Far out,” I said.
Scott woke up alone in his king-sized bed. Fighting to control the hangover that was splitting his head apart, he tried to remember what went down the night before.
He was pretty sure that Kathy was with him when he went to bed. There had been a lot of drinking and shouting and maybe even a slap or two. Open handed, of course. He never would have struck her with a closed first. No matter how much of a bitch she was being.
But he couldn’t remember the specifics, the details. How much had he had to drink? What were they fighting about? Did he really hit her? And where was she now?
He got up, walked into the kitchen, swallowed four Advil tablets, and started brewing a pot of coffee. He began to remember bits and pieces from the night before. And that’s when the lyrics to that Joni Mitchell song began haunting him.
Listening late last night
I heard the screen door slam
And a big yellow taxi
Took my girl away
Now, don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got
Til it’s gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot