Yesterday, I got my hair cut and, not being well-versed in idle chit chat with complete strangers, I was relieved that my hairdresser did not have much to say. A neighboring patron, however, more than made up for our silence. As she pried into the social lives of everyone in the room, I wondered why it was that we were the ones made uncomfortable by her breaking the unwritten code of hair salon conduct.
Are your parents still married?Um, no.
Why not.
(no answer)
Why not? (louder)
Um, my dad is an alcoholic. Mom got tired of it.
Said customer then launched into a lengthy rant about alcoholics and how she did not blame the stylist’s mother one bit. Even as the stylist became quieter and more noticeably agitated. I thought she was about to burst into tears, but another customer spared her with a question and a topic change.
Amidst offending my stylist to the point she had to leave the room for a moment and ruffling the feathers of even the elderly lady next to her who seemed the only one willing to set clear boundaries as to what conversation was appropriate, she said one thing which stuck with me.
The elderly lady had just gotten her hair colored. While they chatted about that, the stylist asked if that was something she was considering.
Goodness, no. I’ve earned every one of these gray hairs.
An interesting perspective. I have always hoped I would be able to grow old gracefully. Take wrinkles and gray hairs in stride. I suppose it helps that I have never particularly prided myself on any aspect of my physical appearance, but I still wonder if it will all be as graceful when it strikes. My first gray hairs I discovered in college, for me, merely added one more color to the interesting rainbow that is my natural hair color. I’m not so sure I will be so amused when they turn to visible streaks.
The glory of young men is their strength: and the beauty of old men is the gray head. (Proverbs 20:29)
Our culture venerates youth. Beauty, vigor, spontaneity, impulsivity and a lifestyle devoted to the here and now are held in high regard by a society fearful of growing old. In a recent email exchange, someone made a slightly condescending statement about “those of us who were able to maintain a childlike view of the world…” I know what is meant in that, and frankly the person did not know me well enough to judge my view of the world based on what little I had revealed. But it left me wondering why this “childlike view of the world” is so highly esteemed by adults. Are we not to be raising chilren to adulthood, not regressing ourselves back to childhood?
But we hate the thought of getting old, either physically or mentally. In My Generation by The Who, lead Vocalist Roger Daltrey sings,
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin’ ’bout my generation)
I hope I die before I get old (Talkin’ ’bout my generation)
In 1965, Daltrey even vowed to commit suicide before he reached 30 because he did not want to grow old.
And everyone in my generation should remember this one:
I don’t wanna grow up, I’m a Toys R’ Us kid.
A million toys to choose from, that I can play with.
From bikes to trikes and video games,
It’s the biggest toy store there is…Gee Wiz!
I don’t wanna grow up,
‘Cause baby if I did…
I wouldn’t be a Toys R’ Us kid!
Why don’t we want to grow up? And why do we seem to have so little respect for the experience and wisdom which comes with aging? We prefer to depict our parents and grandparents as dottering old fools, teetering on the edge of dementia then afford them the honor earned by their years. At the same time, we identify with teenagers in our dress, activities and speech, denying to all (and most especially ourselves) that we will ever be like the generations which precede us. When that fails, and we are confronted by our age, we hold on to the notion that we are still “young at heart.”
When was the last time you thought that the beauty of any person rested in a gray head? And as we look forward to each gray hair with increasing dread, do we not take away some of the joy of the life we have been given? I’m not sure what he was referring to exactly, but La Bruyere apparently once said,
Most men spend the first part of their lives in making the latter part miserable.
Excessive fixation on trying to defeat the effects of time seem destined to ensure us of just that.
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This post speaks to the very heart of me. When I was nine, I spent some time with an amazing senior couple. The woman had long grey hair, was vibrant and interesting, yet embraced the wisdom of her years. We had many discussions about this, and she impressed on me enough that I have not just accepting getting older, but thrive in it. I loved turning 40, as it was a mile-stone of things earned for me. I go crazy with so much focus on trying to stay young, that they miss the silver lining of middle-age.
Great post!
yeah but chin hairs just drive me over the edge.. if ya know what I mean.
Thanks for this wonderful reminder Dana! I will treasure each and every gray hair I get (well with the exception of the stick strait up in the air ones - God said “let everything be done decently and in order” and I just can’t find anything decent and in order about these pesky little hairs!)
Yes the whole ever seeking to be youthful kind of takes us back to the Greeks and their ideal man they sought to be. I just can’t understand the wanting to remain childlike - God says that “Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child” and I know how foolish I am as an adult - I definitely do not desire to regress in this department if you know what I mean!! ( :
Well, Judy, I don’t think I can make an argument for those. Sorry.
Thanks, Angela and Mandi. I’m only 33. Thirty didn’t bother me, but we’ll see what 40 does. : )
Dana,
Wow!
Thanks for letting us inspire you. How did you go from crazy hairdos to this?
Two of the most beautiful ladies that I have known were both over the age of 70. Their hair was silver and their faces glowed. Love bubbled out of them and all over anyone who was blessed to be near. Internal beauty is always more important and these women were radiant.
I echo your sentiments. I want to spend my time trying to be like that rather than worrying about “the effects of time.”
Is this where I mention my own purple hair? My hubby died my hair after the visit to the stylist. I did it a long time ago for fun, and I guess the significantly shortened hair inspired it.
The color on the box was “plum” although looked more of an auburn. I was a little worried for awhile, because the blond streaks really were beginning to look purple.
Thankfully, it toned down to a nice even color. I prefer my own, but it is fun once in awhile, I guess.
There’s a difference between childlikeness (innocence, wonder, adventure, willingness to learn and grow, not being set in our ways — I think this is what the Who means by “I hope I die before I get old”)and childishness (which we all ought to have lost by now!)
This reminds me of a fascinating book I read a few years ago — I wish I could remember the title of it; I think it was “If I Live to Be 100″ — which was a series of interviews with centenarians. The author was looking for the common threads in their lives, what it was that kept them living productive lives for so long.
Here is some age and wisdom; dh sent me this interesting link not long ago:
http://www.markstoryphotography.com/tns.php
As for grey hairs, I have always hoped my hair goes grey so I can wear it long like an old hippie. I always intended to grow old gracefully…but this year, the ten pounds from the last baby are too stubborn, the stretch marks aren’t fading, my hands look worn, there are spider veins appearing on my legs, and I have to keep plucking a hair out of that beauty mark on my chin. I don’t feel very graceful about this — and I can only hope to become wise. But childlikeness…that I will hang onto.
I agree with your basic sentiments…and that is what Daltrey said more recently since he is well past 30, didn’t kill himself as promised and is still singing that song.
But dying young was part of the rock ‘n’ roll mystique. I read somewhere that Eric Clapton was somewhat disappointed to have not died young.
I am not talking about a sense of wonder and all that. Or spider veins. : )
But our culture is bent on worshiping youth. Even the negative.
I dye my hair because of the grey, but I have been going grey since I was 19…and I am now 36. If I didn’t dye it, I would look AT LEAST 20 years older..and I’m not ready for that yet. :o) When I am old enough to be grey-headed, I will let the dye fade away.
My mom went gray early, too. I don’t mean this to be anything agains dyeing hair, really. Just some thoughts on what we seem to value in society.
Rebecca’s sentiment summed it up for me, but as far as physical aspects of beauty some of the most beautiful women I know are much older, grey and stunning. It is their attitudes, their wisdom, their demeanor.
I too am bothered by women trying to stay young forever–it is very common here in southern California. Forty year olds wearing the skin tight jeans and belly shirts with little back packs and baretts in their hair–almost like a 6th grade child, with florescent nail polish.
I try to go clothes shopping and I can choose between Misses and old lady wear (old lady wear is as if designers gave up and used left over scrapes to piece together whatever) There really isn’t a whole lot out there for a dignified woman that is niether old nor young…and thay may lead many to feel like they have to choose between the two **shrug**
As far as grey, I don’t mind going grey…but not yet, not at 38 years old. I color on occasion when it starts to bother me…and then I let it go when the idea of cost gets to me or I get lazy. Then when the greys overwhelm me and make me “feel” old and tired, I color again for a pick me up. It’s not so much for how I look, but more about how I feel…if that makes sense.
Great topic!
Thanks, Shawna. And that is just exactly what I was referring to. This certainly wasn’t meant as anything personal against anyone who colors their hair. Most people do…well, women who are getting their first gray hairs, anyway. I was only pondering the whys and wherefores. And why society as a whole doesn’t seem to appreciate those gray hairs, born of experience.
My grandma was one of the most beautiful people on the planet, and she had a full head of white hair. Maybe that’s why going gray doesn’t bother me now. I kind of like it, and now that I’m homeschooling my second pair of teenagers, I’m thinking I’ve earned this crown of glory
Awesome post! I rue the day I started coloring my hair. Drat!