Mom’s, Hair & Heaven

On Mother’s Day, my mind was constantly drifting. Countless memories of my dear departed mother kept surfacing as I walked through my day. She and the many surrogate Mom’s I’ve had the privilege to know throughout my life would pop into my head nudging me to acknowledge the huge impact they had on me.

Grandma Bessie was my mother’s Mom. She gave me my first manicure and taught me the importance of good grooming. I’ll never forget her warning my older sister about the dangers of backcombing, or teasing, her hair. She had worn her hair in the once fashionable “Gibson Girl” hairstyle, and was convinced the teasing used to create it had caused her hair to thin profusely. And, one thing I know for sure, she was the one who instilled in me a passion for good food and healthy cooking. She was ahead of her time making us delicious carrot juice, enhanced with apple and celery, as she read the latest issue of Prevention magazine. I feel her wink at me every time I turn on my Vitamix.

My Dad’s mother was affectionately known as Mammie. That’s right Mammie. One of my older cousins, trying to say Grammy, came up with it and she embraced it. I didn’t get the significance of that name until I mentioned it to some new friends I had met in Fort Mc Clellan, Alabama during Basic Training in the Army. I  spent a few crazy minutes explaining to them that I didn’t have a mammy. I had a Grandmother called Mammie. I could go on about the Army and my hair. But, that’s for another time. One of the things I remember most about going to Mammie’s house, was playing with her collection of hair rollers. They were narrow, metal rods that helped her maintain her short, curly “Hairdo”.

Then, there were my four aunts, the pillars of my world. Especially Aunt Jean who decorated her home in ultra modern 1950’s style, right down to the aqua colored kitchen sink and appliances, kidney shaped coffee table, spoked wall clock and the first aluminum Christmas tree in town. I thought that tree was so sacrilegious. But, I ended up sitting on the floor next to it, mesmerized by its changing colors as the little rotating four paneled color wheel, with the light bulb behind it, slowly cast a Christmas glow on the silver boughs, adding to the magic of that special time. Aunt Jean had long manicured fingernails that were the perfect tool for french braiding my sister’s and my hair. She gave us “Farmer’s Daughter” braids, starting at the top on each side at the temples and cascading into two braided pigtails. The braids were so tight. We thought we looked like we were from China! I think a book’s worth of stories could be written about the other three, Aunts Betty, Mary and Marie. Each of them revealed a bit of themselves to me so I could find my own sense of style and grace.

There’s a special place in my heart for some of the women who came into my life as guests in the salon styling chair. It was wonderful to create haircolor and styles for them. But, they gave me so much more. They had such integrity and strength of character. These were women who put everyone else’s needs in front of their own. They shared incredible wisdom and ethics, always with a great sense of humor. I am a far better person because of them and forever in their debt. I also learned another valuable lesson from these ladies. We must all take time for ourselves. Each of my favorite “Super Women” never quit doing for others until illness, mostly cancer, stopped them. We must listen to our bodies and nurture them. So that then, we may have the strength and resiliency to live a long and healthy life…perhaps to mentor and share our own life wisdoms.

Here’s to Moms and Mentors everywhere. Thanks for all of your selfless love and care.