Haircuts and Howls

"Strange things are afoot at the Circle K."
- Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, 1989

Rob purchased clippers and scissors last week when it became obvious that barber visits had no place on our calendar for the foreseeable future. He tested the clippers on himself with some success and has been threatening the boys with buzz cuts. Daniel shrieks in futile denial when the subject comes up but William, with a shaggy mane of black hair, agreed to succumb to the scissors last night after dinner.

With hair wet from the shower, William perched on a stool in the backyard and clutched a towel around his bare neck and chest. Thus prepared, our sixteen-year-old micromanaged his coiffure as Rob and I circled him in focused tandem, Rob with the clippers and I with black comb in hand.

"More here," said William as he lifted his top-heavy forelock. "Not too much, watch the comb, Mom. Now move my ear out of the way to get the sides."

"Sit up straight," said Rob to William as clumps of black hair fell to the grass, tufts sticking out amid the new green shoots. Then to me, "Stop pulling the comb away! You have to hold still."

Both William and I froze obediently, and somehow, in a strange sort of hairdresser dance, we managed a cut that met with the teenager's approval. A victorious baptism for the clippers, a huge relief for the parents blinking against the setting sun as we cleaned up and high-fived.

Later in the evening, as I watched Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn shepherd a new field of designers toward money and fame on "The Cut," Aden burst into the room saying, "It's time for the howl, do you hear it?"

Pressing mute on the remote and focusing on the open window, we could indeed hear many people howling in solidarity, in rebellion, in support of medical professionals. Denver's answer to Italy's communal singing, New York's nightly applause for health care workers, Chicago's city song, the 8:00 howl has started to catch on.  Even in our suburban neighborhood, howls continued to rise from various directions as Aden and I crossed the street in our pajamas and bare feet to take in the supermoon. The random howling seemed more appropriate as the huge moon rose above our pine tree, not pink as promised, but certainly huge and glowing.

On our way back into the house, Aden said, "Strange things are afoot...." and in this time of odd firsts and random victories, nothing could be more true.

Stay safe and well.
xoxo
Laura