The many hairs of Eric Robinette

Every time I come back from the stylist, the chorus remains the same:

"Hey, I see ya got your ears lowered!"

"Where did your hair go?"

"Who are you?"

"Hey, wow, ya got your hair cut!"

And to that last one, I often reply: "I got all of them cut, actually."

(Insert either raucous laughter or the sad trombone, whichever you prefer.)

 But lest anyone think I'm despairing, I promise I'm not. I'm quite used to this. My hair has been a point of conversation all my life.  And I do mean ALL my life.

Take, for instance, this childhood photo of me from about 1973 or so. Yes, I am publicly admitting that is me.

 

Why it was thought this was a good look for me, I still don't know. It sure wasn't my idea. I personally prefer the look I sported a bit later, when I was about 5. I actually remember posing for this shot, too. 

Kinda looks like a Beatle cut, doesn't it? Which is funny, considering my real Beatlemania didn't hit for another five years.

These days I sport two basic looks - the semi-buzz, seen here  with my Clockwork Orange glower. Beleve it or not, I DO have a scalp.

And then there's helmet hair, as seen on my birthday a couple of years ago.

People always notice when I get a hair cut (or my hairs cut) because I don't go at regular intervals, like, say, once a month. And funnily enough, I do not follow the example of John Lennon, whose hairstyle was once called into question in court. John was testifying in a case revolving around the illegal issue of his Rock N' Roll oldies album. The bootleg had a picture of John with long hair. He showed up in court with short hair. When the other side's lawyer was cross-examining John on the stand, the lawer asserted that John must have cut his hair specifically for the trial.

John shot back,  "Rubbish. I cut it every 18 months."

Believe me, if I waited 18 months, my hair would probably be three stories high. No, I go by an entirely different gauge. I head to the stylist when it takes more than three minutes to fix it every morning. An excess of 180 seconds on my head is just ridiculous.

And when I go to the stylist, they may cut my hair, but they sure don't cut me a break. Almost every one of them  jokes about how much hair I've got. One of the most common remarks is, "You'll never have to worry about going bald."

No, I suppose I won't at that. And indeed, I only recently got a rather frightening look at the future. This is me just this past New Year's Eve, with a couple of very good friends of mine. I swear on my John Lennon collection no Photoshop or other alterations have been applied.

 

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four? Hoo!

The subject, Eric, thanks the artist, Reba

Dear Reba,

When I met you last Sunday, Jan. 3, you were practicing flash cards with words on them, so I'll understand if you can't quite grasp what I'm about to write, but when you get down to it, it's pretty simple. This is a BIG and heartfelt thank-you for the wonderful painting you presented to me, of myself and your mom, Shelly Snow.

As any number of my friends will tell you, I am a complete sucker for positive female attention, even when the girl in question is only 5, like you. And it's even more amazing when you consider we had never met at all before last week.

Oh, I had heard plenty about you. Your aunt Hilary has more pictures of you in her house than anyone else, I'm pretty sure. And scanning through your mom's pics on Facebook, I even knew you were artistically inclined.

Still, knowledge pales next to experience, so when you pressed your painting into my hands, I could have been a pin in your Wii game. I was completely bowled over. This wasn't just paint and paper - it was paint on canvas, mounted on wood and everything! You went all out!

You told me that was the sun coming out from behind the cloud. There were two figures at the bottom, and you pointed to them and said the one on the left was me, and the one on the right was your mom.

Gifted as you obviously are, Reba, I'm not sure you know just how prescient you are as well. That means you know things before they happen. Somehow you figured out my favorite color is red and you made me that color. Your mom tells me you're quite good at capturing her too. She said to me "And I am a rectangle, which is pretty true : )"

On top of all that (kinda literally, come to think of it), the sun coming out from the clouds reminded me of two songs by my all-time favorite group, the Beatles: "Here Comes the Sun" and "I"ll Follow the Sun." You got it goin' ON, friend!

When I took my painting back home, I immediately took a picture of myself with it, so I could show all my friends. I have been telling anybody and everybody about it. I write for a newspaper, and I talked to a  lady who runs a big arts group in Middletown. I told her about your painting too, and she seemed about as charmed as I was, if that's even possible.

Your painting has been a great pick-me-up. If I'm ever feeling down or overwhelmed, all I have to do is look at your painting, and it's impossible not to smile. I'd carry it around with me everywhere, but I I want to keep it in good shape, so it has to stay at my house.

But does that stop me from looking at it when I'm away? Hardly! I even made your painting the picture on my laptop. So now, if work ever gets to be too much for me, all I have to do is push all the windows aside, and voila - Instant Smile!

In all honesty, Reba, this is one of my very favorite gifts I've ever gotten, and I will treasure it forever. That really means a lot that you did that for me, even before meeting me. I was surprised by your painting, but I wasn't at all surprised you're a great girl because you come from great stock - and that goes for both your nuclear and extended families, in every sense of the word.

You know, when I was a kid, I always wished I could draw or paint like you can. However, my talent is in words much more than pictures, so I hope what I've written here is enough to say thank you very, very much. I am truly touched. I can't wait to see you again, and I hope I can be in another one of your paintings sometime. Stay creative, kid! You're aces at it! Color me thrilled!

Hugs,

Your nutty uncle Eric

P.S. Don't worry about calling your mom and dad Shelly and Chad  - I called my parents by their given names  when I was about your age! Made sense to me! ;)