The Long and Short of It!

I remember one summer back in the 50s, I guess I was probably about eight to ten years old, and my parents took me from Ohio to Kentucky to spend some summer time with my cousin, Carol Sue. She was a year younger than me and we were like sisters. That summer we did everything together.

Carol Sue was going to get to go to a beauty parlor (they were called parlors back then!) and get her hair cut. I really wanted to go, too. So, my aunt had me write my Mom and Dad and ask if I could have $5 to go with Carol Sue and get a haircut. When the money arrived, off we went to get our haircuts. We went by ourselves because the shopping center was within walking distance.

Carol Sue went first and when she was done I really liked her haircut. So, I jumped up into the chair and told the lady that I wanted the same haircut. She hemmed and hawed and talked to the other ladies in the shop. She kept asking me if I was sure it was okay with my mother if she cut my hair. “Of course,” I said, “She gave me the money to come here!” And she proceeded to give me a haircut. I loved it!

A short time later, my parents came to pick me up. I remember standing in the living room with Carol Sue and my aunt. I was so excited to see them again even though I had had such a wonderful time at my cousin’s house.

My mother was the first one through the front door closely followed by my father. As soon as she walked in, she took one look at me, screamed and fell back into my confused father’s arms. He took one look at me and he started yelling, “What did you do to your hair? Look what you’ve done to your mother! Your hair….! Your mother….!” He stuttered those phrases about two or three times. I didn’t understand what the big deal was.

That was about the time they began “yelling” (my parents never really yelled, they just voiced disapproval) at my aunt. Well, the big deal was that my mother loved my hair. I suppose my dad did too. It went all the way down my back to just below my waist and it was thick and wavy.

My mother recovered. She said that when she sent me the money to go with Carol Sue to get a haircut, she thought I was just going to get a trim. My aunt started in on how she hated long hair on an active child. It was impossible to untangle and it would grow back. My aunt survived.

I had gone to the beauty parlor with waist-length hair and I came out with the style of the day – a pixie cut – one-inch all over!  I don’t have any pictures of myself with it but here’s a Google image I found that would have been similar.

Source: Google Images

Everyone survived! My folks took me home and my hair grew out again! You know, now that I think about it, I don’t think I ever got to spend the summer with Carol Sue again.  Hmmmm….