Before...


After.

Last night the '92 Volvo rolled into town and out stepped my long-haired son. We went for a walk along the river and as Jake's hair blew in the breeze I thought to myself how I never could have imagined that I'd be a parent who wanted to tell his child to get a haircut. Then, as if on cue, Jake said, "My hair's starting to bother me; I'm going to get a haircut tomorrow."
Good thing, since he wasn't exactly looking like an accountant.
Of course, back in my 70's hey-day my hair was quite long. My friend Deirdre (no idea whatever happened to her) said I had a "Farrah flip." Not a compliment. My friend Erik Sanko (who my brother recently improbably ran into in Hanover, NH) told me: "You'd make the perfect rock star. Too bad you have absolutely no talent." Also not a compliment.
Well, they should see me now, sitting on my perch at Birch Wisdom. Talk about success!!!!