Hair Day

My mom has gone every week on Thursday afternoon to get her hair fixed for as long as I can remember. When I'm visiting her, I go along. It is a fascinating place, watching the "weeklies" come and go to get their fresh coifs from Marcia. Mom is almost 91 but not the oldest customer by a long shot. My former English teacher is 100 and still goes every week. She doesn't like to talk to people about her age. "I just think when people find out you're this old, they think you're useless."

Hardly. Especially this woman. A huge intellect, wonderful sense of humor, and until her eyesight went bad, she was a classical pianist. And just a couple weeks ago when her kids held an open house for her hundredth birthday, her older brother and sister attended. I haven't gotten to see her since my sister and I visited her at her home about 7 years ago. I hope to go again soon, but I will keep my trap shut about her age. That's going to be one humongous elephant in the room, but I'll step over it and ignore its trunk wrapping around my ankle if it makes her happy.