Over The Top?

From the summer after I graduated from high school in 1973, I have known of the ultimate encroachment, that I would lose my hair. My father was already losing his by his mid-twenties, and a similar fate would await me. It is not something I prefer, and I cringe when I read or hear of women who say they would never date a bald-headed man -- not because of the sense of rejection, but if only because a man would be deemed a cad were he to state his preferences in women in such cosmetic terms. But I have learned to live with it.

So it was with some amusement that I read of Bruce Handy's observations in Vanity Fair of the mane of one who would be President, Donald Trump.

Thanks to the miracle of harsh lighting, the photo appears to reveal one of Trump’s most tightly-held secrets. Look closely. See the cross-hatching in Trump’s hair?

My baldly-stated thesis: this could be evidence of ...

"Baldly-stated." Cute.

The idea of a comb-over, never mind a bad one, is repugnant to me. I once knew a guy who would comb all his hair from the back of his head, over the top, and with sufficient hair gel, have it end in a point in the middle of his forehead. It looked mildly ridiculous from a distance, even more so up close. He sang in the choir of a parish of which I was once a member, and this choir had a place up front, near the altar, so the whole would could watch him periodically fuss with it. I understand he took great care to keep his head still enough in public, and to avoid getting caught in the wind.

Meanwhile, I have assurances from Sal, that one day (depending on, uh, you know) she would invest in my attempt to regrow what once was lost. Between that and a significant weight loss -- oh yes, we're going to try again -- I might also regain my youth, at a time when I am an old man in a young man's game, as if that hasn't happened already.

But as the Lenten season reminds us, we can only cheat the inevitable to a point. For, as it is written in the 1399 manuscript Llibre Vermell de Montserrat:

Vita brevis breviter in brevi finietur,
    Life is short, and shortly it will end;
Mors venit velociter quae neminem veretur,
    Death comes quickly and respects no one,
Omnia mors perimit et nulli miseretur.
    Death destroys everything and takes pity on no one.
Ad mortem festinamus peccare desistamus.
    To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

And so it goes ...