Tell us your hair story: seen on poster, Jacksonville Public Library, October 2019
I’ll go first:
Longenecker children, ages 14, 11, 9. and 2
Now it’s your turn!
Tell Us Your Hair Story
by MarianBeaman | Oct 30, 2019 | blog, Family / Nostalgia, Mennonite History, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia | 63 comments
Good morning, Marian! I remember once we discussed braids. There’s a photo of my husband and me on our fourth anniversary. My hair is in braids, and I look very young. 🙂
You are number one again today, Merril. Even though your book is “in the chute” so to speak, you rise early just because you are an early riser, I suppose.
I wonder if I’ve seen your 4th anniversary post. People on social media would LIKE you in braids, I’m sure!
Yes, I’m always up early, Marian. You’ve seen that first hand. 🙂
I put “braids” in my search box and found it: https://merrildsmith.wordpress.com/2015/12/06/plaits-challenge/
You are simply adorable, even at a second glance! I find search boxes SOOO helpful on my own (and others’) blogs. I wish every blog had one. Thanks for researching this!
Thank you! 🙂
What an endearing photograp!
I’ve been through all kinds and phases with my hair, including a No 4, which I truly regreted. I also had a dreadful perm in the early 80s, never to be repeated again!!! Luckily, no photos remain from that horrible history. 🤣
My natural hair is dark brown and straight and I’m trying to stick with it. Great post! 👍❤
You have “good” hair now, no kinky perm. Now I’m wondering what a No. 4 is? I’m “dyeing” to know. Thanks for your story, Fatima!
A number 4 is very short hair cut with clippers as they do in the Armed Forces: number 1 is the shortest. I just ended up looking like a hedgehog! 🦔😩
You can tell I’m ignorant of military jargon. Thanks for informing me here. By the way, I can’t imagine you ever looking like a hedgehog. 🙂
You’re too kind. Short hair doesn’t suit me at all. I’ve tried it several times and always regretted it and even dreamt I had long hair when it was short. I think my subconsciousness was trying to tell me something!
Growing up, I always wanted long hair, but my mother insisted on the pixie cut for me and my sister. I remember her chasing me with the scissors!
Me too!
🙂
Thanks for giving my first laugh of the morning, Jill! I can “see” your mom chasing you with a scissors. What an image, actually very dangerous too!
LOL! These days, social services would be called. 🙂
Every year at start of school my mother dragged us to the beauty school for a pixie cut. That lasted until I was 13, then I grew it out. Four times it has been down to my waist, then cut for cancer wigs. Shortest as an adult was about 2″. Now I have a [naturally] curly bob, [naturally] strawberry blonde going silver. Never had a perm, or coloring.
Your reference to “cancer wigs” makes me think of Locks of Love, which is where you may have donated your long, long hair. I picture strawberry-blonde going silver as very stylish, Ginger.
I suppose the pixie cut was low maintenance for our mothers, Ginger. 🙂
You three girls look like triplets–born apart of course! Hair story? Every family has the “so and so cut the bangs of her little sister” or brother story. Among our daughters, it was the middle one whose bangs got chopped, and among my sisters, it was also the middle one who did not escape the scissors my oldest sister wielded. Our youngest brother always got haircuts with Dad, but we three older sisters tried to make him into our baby doll anyway. He soon squirmed out of that role. 🙂
Thanks for sharing your sibling “hair” stories, Melodie. At one point you too were Mennonite, and probably looked like a softer version of the Longenecker sisters.
Soon after my blog published this morning, this appeared in my feed:
“Why I cover my head with a head-covering tutorial” which includes scarf tying demos:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1BMO1965O8&feature=push-fr&attr_tag=oJvThIKShf6beR7O%3A6
The young mother’s husband appeared in the video, explaining that the “internal” and “external” signs are not to be confused.
When I was a little girl, my hair was wispy, thin, curly, and light blonde. For some strange reason, my hair did not grow down past my ears until I was around ten or eleven years old. Kids at school would ask me why my mom cut my hair so short, but it had never been cut. When my hair finally began to grow, it grew in very thick and fast. It also turned dark brown. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself!
My hair is still very thick, long, and naturally curly. It started turning gray when I was in my twenties. For years I colored it dark blonde. But when I turned 65, a year and a half ago, I decided to stop coloring. Now, the top half of my hair is silver gray and the bottom half is golden blonde. My wild hair makes me look like an aging hippie. I never was a hippie, though.
Strangers often comment on my hair being so thick and long. Once, years ago, I was in a movie theater, and a man sitting behind me said “Miss, can you please push your hair down? I can’t see the screen!” I was so embarrassed. I tried to push my hair down, but I could feel it spring right back out again. My hair has a mind of its own, especially when it’s humid. All the other seats in the theater were taken, so instead of seeing the movie, the poor man sitting behind me saw just my HAIR. 😁
You have some pretty gripping hair stories, Linda Lee. Thanks for all of them. I guess adolescent hormones played a role in your earlier tales, but the movie story takes the cake – ha ha ha!
A couple of years ago, my doctor ordered some special tests which found that I carry the antibodies for both Hashimoto’s and Graves disease. With Hashimoto’s, your thyroid doesn’t produce enough hormone, and with Graves, it produces too much. Having both autoimmune conditions is rare.
I wonder if the Hashimoto’s was why my hair did not grow until I was eleven, and the Graves is why it grew so much? That never occurred to me, until I read your comment about hormones.
Oh, my word! One idea sparks another in blog posts, I see again. I’m glad you drew conclusions about your own conditions in the comments, Linda Lee. 🙂
Well this will be fun. I got into bleaching my hair shortly after high school. Started with a wash in product, Summer Blonde. I tired of that after a few years and (the night Bobby Kennedy was killed) I was up very late trying a much stronger product which was not working. I finally fell asleep and the next morning ran to the drug store and got a dark brown dye to cover up my mistakes. BUT, I wasn’t careful to keep the dye off my face, so I had this really creepy looking dark brown hair that seemed to flow down my forehead and across my temples. It grew out in a week or so, but it was really creepy looking. Crazy how important our physical looks were to us back then. The steps we’d go to “be our best.” Makes me shudder now.
If the dark brown dye “mistake” happened during Hallowe’en week you wouldn’t look creepy at all, but it didn’t happen because Bobby Kennedy died in June of 1968, not November.
Thanks, for the smiles, Janet!
I had to laugh. My hair has been the topic of conversation more over the past year than it was for my entire life before. People sure have a lot to say when you make the transition for dyeing to natural.
When I saw your new, natural hair style, I thought it looked great. Now others can see it here; https://somertonsmith.com
Thanks, Arlene!
Remember Dorothy Hamill way back when? The pixie cut? Many people I know wore their hair like that, including me. 😀
I LOVED Dorothy Hamill’s haircut, and can still see her doing figure eights on the ice in the 1970s. Thanks for the reminder here, L. Marie.
My hair story is a blog post of its own, too long for a comment, too tinged with bitterness for a cheerful blog such as this. I do, however, adore your photo of you with braided hair. It’s charming.
Now you’ve made me curious . . . just a little, Ally. My braided hair didn’t seem charming at all to me back then. Now, in retrospect, with thinning, short hair, I long for the long, lustrous look. Oh, yes!
To LadyQuixote:
🙂 Linda Lee–you quote “I tried to push my hair down, but I could feel it spring right back out again.”
When it gets Springtime maybe you can have a post called “Spring is in the (H)Air”! Maybe your hair will be a new New York fashion statement.
“Spring is in the (H)Air” — too funny!
My husband was born in New York. We live in New Mexico, now. The temperature outside is well below freezing and snow and ice are falling out of the sky. It isn’t even winter yet, and I am already looking forward to spring.
Thanks for commenting, you made me laugh.
😉
My hair is less of a drama these days than it has been in the past. Au naturel, sliver-grey and a good hair cut (as i did this morning) goes a long way to making me happy. Although she cut my fringe too short – on my request 🙁 I look like a boy, albeit an aging one)
You must be aging backwards, if you look like a boy, Susan.
And remember, fringes always grow out. 🙂
Marian — I’ve had the same exact “pixie” cut since I was seven-years-old. Before that, my hair was shoulder length. It all started with me breaking the household rules. Imagine that!. I went to bed with gum in my mouth (a big no-no). It fell out some time during the night and got in my hair. Mom tied a “babushka” around my head, gave me money, and sent me to the barber shop (she didn’t have her own car at the time and thankfully, my dad was at work). That’s how and when my haircut came about.
You’ve written personal improvement books, now working on fiction. I see in my crystal ball a memoir at some point.. I’ve love to read about your life growing up. Thanks for including a slice of it here.
My hair was one of my mom’s greatest frustrations. Straight as a stick and fine, mom would work hard shampooing and “pincurling” it on Saturday night. On Sunday morning, she brushed it out and got it just the way she wanted it only to have it fall out to straight in a matter of 30-45 minutes. It is still straight and fine, and now with age it is thinning. I’m currently in a muddle as my stylist won’t listen to my instructions about not cutting it too short (which she’s been doing since spring) and like Susan Scott, I feel like a look like a boy. Started my search today for someone new to see if I can reach a happy hair stage in my “recovery.” Love the girls and their braids!
I see you have been Tweeting up a storm about these hair stories, which I agree are awesome. My hair was once so thick that my Mennonite mother took me to a hairdresser (the word in those days) to have it thinned. I remember seeing a small, metal waste basket full of my hair beside the chair. Nowadays I am facing thinning hair too. My stylist has recommended a gel-mousse called Stay High (which works for me) by Redken. The name alone is worth the price – ha!
My story is quite traumatic and would make a great blog post. You always inspire me, Marian!
My sister and I had long braids until we came to Canada at ages 7&9. Mom was expecting #7 and dad would be looking after us while she was gone. He would not be braiding our hair so mom chopped it off and sent us to grandma’s house. She wept when she saw us! Our grandmother felt we were slowly getting worldly, like the rest of the “English”! Imagine how we felt!
What a clash of expectations: Your mother hoping to ease the load of labor on your grandmother; your grandmother misinterpreting the action as a compromise, and you and your sister feeling conflicted, I’m sure. One thing we can usually rely on: Hair will grow back!
Readers will enjoy this story, Elfrieda!
I also was the victim of a very bad perm paired with an equally bad haircut. I did this the day before college graduation. Luckily I was able to find someone competent to fix it.
Thank you, Liz, and welcome. I remember visiting your website and noticing (among other accomplishments) you were a Latin teacher. I once aspired to teach Latin, but was disabused of the idea by the Latin teacher at my college who said, “It’s a dying language. You won’t get a job!” So, I taught English.
I’m glad your hair story turned out okay, but maybe no one would have noticed until you took off your mortarboard. 🙂
Loved this. Hair story? I’m already thinking about writing a book on my myriad of stories, lol, in fact, I wrote one chapter of a scary tale in my newest book I’m working on, lol. I’ll keep you in suspense for now. 🙂
You are keeping me in suspense about hair stories. Do tell!
I like thrillers, not suspense, Debby!
Lol Marian. Sorry for the suspense, it’s a WIP, lol. Suffice it to say, it’s a story about hair dye and getting a rude awakening when the color on the box was not the color that came off on my head. LOL ’nuff said. 🙂
I have a hair-raising story from my mom! When she was a little girl, growing up on a farm (in Lancaster County, PA) she had two thick, long braids. One day she and her sisters were crawling underneath an electric fence and Mom managed to get her braid caught in the fence, which began shocking her. Mom couldn’t get her braid untangled from the fence, and she shouted at her dumbfounded sisters to go get help! Grandma turned off the electric fence and loosened the braid.
Now, when I tell that story, people sometimes protest that hair is a poor conductor of electricity. But Mom remembers the incident well, and they had been playing in the creek before crawling underneath the fence, so the hair might have been damp.
Your story is perfectly believable – and certainly hair-raising. People who protest that hair is a poor conductor of electricity have not experienced what happens to hair when one removes clothes from a drier, especially on a cold day. The dampness would have created a double-whammy.
Susan, I think you take the prize for the most shocking experience, pun intended. Thanks for sharing it. I think you are from my neck of the woods too, Lancaster County. Do visit again!
My mother would never let me cut my hair. I was nearly eight years old; several classmates had cut a fringe or bangs. I wanted to have one too. My hair was thin, and plaiting it was a bother. Long strands of loose hair fell over my sweating face in the hot tropical sun of Ceylon – Sri Lanka. Each time I asked Mom to cut me a fringe, she said no.
A classmate explained how I could do it myself.
When Mom was away one afternoon, I took a pair of scissors and stood in front of a mirror and cut.
Of course, Mom was angry when she saw it.
“If you ever cut it again, you’ll get a spanking!”
In school the next day, my friends commented on the results. My fringe was too thin, and it was a bit crooked also!
Mom was out that afternoon too. I took the scissors and went to the mirror, trying to “fix” my fringe. It became shorter as I made it thicker and a bit straighter.
I got a spanking, but I don’t remember that it hurt much.
I had to pin up my fringe, as it grew a bit, as soon as hairpins could hold it in place.
Only after leaving home ten years later to study nursing, I went to a hairdresser the first time. We had to wear some crazy headwear with our nurse’s uniform in England in the 1960s. My fight trying to keep that headwear on my thin, long hear was frustrating.
Mom was a bit disappointed, of course, but she forgave me and accepted my new look – fringe and all!
What a story of punishment and forgiveness at the end, which is what any girl wants after childish experiments.. You have so many stories from around the world, all the more to enhance your gifts as a storyteller.
Thanks for adding to the conversation here, Lisa!
When I was just a kid, I always had braids and tucked them under my cowboy hat when I was playing Roy Rogers!
I didn’t know you had braids, just like me.. You would have made a good playmate for Cliff, who loved to play Cowboys and Indians. Even how he likes when the good guys win.
It’s great to hear from you, Joan. Soon, we are told, we will enjoy fall weather like you’ve had in Charlottesville, without the gorgeous foliage though.
That’s a cute photo, Marian! When I had long hair, I enjoyed wearing it in two braids. Once in a while, I would have my mom help me to create tons of little braids while my hair was still wet, so I could have curly hair. Having straight, thin, and few hairs, creating volume was always fun. I don’t use any products and don’t own a hair dryer, so I’ve been pretty plain (by choice) myself, my entire life. Now, I prefer to wear it short (especially living on sailboats and in RVs with limited water supplies), because it’s easy and doesn’t require much water and shampoo. So, it’s cheap as well. 🙂
As I write this, we are driving through Southern Pennsylvania. We spent the night at the Cabela’s in Hamburg last night. So, I’ve been thinking of you. We won’t drive through Lancaster, though.
What a life of every-evolving scenery. I’m sure your choice to wear short hair suits your life style. In my opinion, life is too short to fuss with hair. Even living a less mobile life than you, I spend about 2 minutes a day on my hair, more on the twice-weekly shampoo hair days.
Good to see you here, Liesbet. Judging by the time stamp, you are probably in Virginia now, unless you decided to be moored in PA for awhile. 🙂
Maryland to meet friends at a Walmart parking lot on Friday, Harper’s Ferry and Antietam National Battlefield yesterday and a bit of Virginia and more of West Virginia today. 🙂
🙂
That photo is a great way to start a conversation, Marion. My mother liked practical, so there were braids and then a pony tail, but in high school, I permed it, bleached it, slept on brush rollers at night, teased it, sprayed it into a helmet. When I went to college at 18, I met girls from New York City who wore levi skirts, sandals, and long straight hair. I liked their style. My hair grew long and straight. It’s shorter now, but gray with no curls or fuss. This suits my life perfectly and I like the natural color. I’m in my mid 70s now so don’t mind looking my age.
It seems we are both happy with our looks. Though I do color my hair still, I spend very little time fussing with it. Two or three minutes a day tops!
I enjoyed your hair history summary. Thanks, Elaine!
I decided to cut my own hair, the night before our class pictures!! When I woke up the next morning, I realized it was a disaster. I cried and refused to go to school. Mom was angry but Dad took me into town to the hairdressers, even though he was very busy on the farm. I got back in time to have my pictures taken, with a decent hairdo. No wonder he was my hero.
I think you were Daddy’s darling, Darlene. What a memorable event in your life: He saved the day, that’s for sure!
Wonderful shot!