April 28, 2006 - Day 3 - Week 4 - Haircuts – One of Life’s Lessons

Oh, the simple pleasures in life we take for granted, like a haircut.  I went to Joe the barber today, no kidding, who is a wonderfully warm and caring friend of 30 plus years. He always inquires as to my health and well being.  I am convinced they teach pastoral care in bartending and barber school, for the good ones blend professional service with pastoral understanding. They are good listeners.  When I informed him I was diagnosed with mantle cell lymphoma he paused, looked at me, and inquired “are you going to lose your hair?”  I laughed immediately, and we laughed together.  It eased the disquiet he felt learning of his friend’s illness, and the spontaneity was therapeutic.  Of course, Joe the barber, was going to inquire about the fragility of the hair follicles on my already partially bald head; of course!

That was the best laugh since I read of the confession of Dr. Wayne Glass who ‘sinned boldly’ with 4 hot cross buns on Easter morning.  Laughter has often been described as the human’s best medicine for whatever ails you, and I am beginning to see that all that is written about heredity makes sense.  My parents let humor heal them throughout their 54 years together.  It was a part of their strong relationship. Thus, I am open to a variety of aids as I get well – humor heals!

But, back to haircuts!  A simple half hour of indulgence every couple of weeks has taken on new meaning for me.  I may not have the need of too many haircuts during the next seven months so I am going to enjoy each one.  I also like the meditative quality of sitting in a chair while someone focuses their complete attention on me.  I am not quite ready for manicures on a regular basis, but maybe that is next.

It may sound silly in a world of complexity, a life in part influenced by technology, to acknowledge the joy of a $25 haircut, but let’s step back from our busy lives for a moment and reflect upon what gives us meaning.  I dare say when confronted with the imminent possibility of death, which I am not, many individuals have taken my hand and spoken of the simple pleasures of life.  The bottom line is usually the same:  life is meaningful in direct proportion to the amount of time I spend with people I love  I never hear stories of the joys of computers or mechanical devises, but rather joy from the card sent from the grand child to the grandparent, the joy of sharing a meal, watching a movie together, or sitting on the piano bench singing old favorites.

Those who have had to face the reality of being terminally ill understood full well the pleasure of having the hand held, the head bathed, and feet rubbed, and yes, even the hair cut. This should teach us in the interim, prior to us preparing for our ultimate death, to delight in and relish the simple things in life.   You and I both know what that means.

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