I awoke this morning, looked in the mirror and said to myself, “Self I don’t want to go to work today. Self, you are having a very bad hair day today. You know self, when you hair does not look good, you look the same.” I paused and as I began to wash my face I said, “Self you really are beginning to show your age, you know how vain you are, and you with another birthday only a few months away.”
As I began to comb my hair, I felt a ray of warmth upon my hand. It was as if the sun itself had opened my bedroom shade to allow its ray to guide my hand. As I combed my hair the light massaged my heart and brought me back to times when I sat in George’s chair for him to massage my scalp. George showered my hair with his own line of aromatic and intoxicating shampoos and conditioners. He combed it with a gentle touch and then with the perfection of God himself, George cut my hair into a heavenly flattering style.
Close your eyes and imagine George. Married to a lovely woman who was his partner not only in love but also in business, loving father and grandfather and successful business man. George was about six foot five inches tall, handsome, a sharp dresser, and he always smelled wonderful. He had a sexy smile, and he was quite the philosopher. George was the picture of perfect health. Where is George? George had a massive heart attach on March 7, 1999. He was fifty-nine years old. A recent experience with a very unprofessional stylist made me think about George. I miss him terribly.
I do not believe George ever had a bad hair day, his immaculately ponytail was always perfect. He will not have any more birthdays. George believed in living life to its fullest. He was not afraid to try new things, and he told me once, “you only fail if you don’t try>’
I am sure that George never let go of that philosophy and I am positively sure that he is still using his aromatic shampoos, rinses and conditioners, magic fingers and precision scissors to give haircuts to the angels.
Dedicated to the memory of George W. Davidson