When the Big Designer was working out genetics, why do you
suppose that it was necessary to only program certain people to be able to tie
a respectable bow on a package or twist the tresses of a daughter into passable
pigtails? The fact of the situation is
undeniable. There are two kinds of
people in the world – those who can wrap a pretty package and those who ought
to use the holiday bags; those who can make a little girl’s hair presentable for a school
photo and those who should have simply called the principal and declared his
daughter too ill to attend class that day.
Genetics are at the root of the malady.
The year was 1977. It
was spring and while the specific date escapes me, it was near the end of the
school year so probably in April or May.
Winnie was ill and remained in bed to fight off a bad bout of flu or one
of the other bugs that visits us all from time to time. It was school picture day and this was the
first school picture for Jennifer.
Appropriate preparation for this milestone of life was left to me – a
father genetically indisposed to combing hair and making braids that wouldn't unravel like a frayed hemp rope.
We began early – very early.
Shannan, two years younger, was headed to Mrs. Smyth’s pre-school for a
normal day of play. Her hair was fine,
relatively short and a comb would pass through it with relative ease. To her credit, Mrs. Smyth didn't ask if I was
bringing a new child to her class when we arrived or perhaps she decided to
take mercy on an inept father and fix the disastrous hairdo I had
delivered. It would be another year or
so before Shannan became expert in the subtleties of coiffing so she was happy
to be at school.
School picture day.
Jennifer’s hair was often complemented because it was long and thick –
the two traits that resist combing and brushing. She wanted, or her mother had suggested, that
pigtails would be most appropriate for her kindergarten school picture at South
Scotland Elementary School.
We began. She was
extremely tolerant in the early going.
She would only wince and screech when my tugging on the brush
sounded like a thresher shredding corn stalks. It’s not a simple matter of technique. There must be an art or innate ability to
make a brush flow through hair so the tangles are untangled and the strands in
position to allow braiding to begin. But we
finished step one in relative calm.
Genetics intervened again.
There are two kinds of people in the world – those who will ask for help
and those who won’t. This was a time
when, upon completion of brushing and combing, we should have walked to any
neighbor’s house to ask for help in making pigtails. Undaunted, I said we could do this. How hard can it be?
The first attempt yielded pigtails that were fairly tight
and secure. Unfortunately, one seemed to
emerge like a growth above her ear while the other came from the nape of her
neck like the tail on a kung fu master.
We began again. The next try led
to better positions but each pigtail looked like it had been woven while riding
a horse. The bands near the bottom weren't secure enough to restrain the unraveling and with one turn of the head
– well the picture shouldn't be described.
Back to step one. By
this time, the brush and comb were needed again. Her wincing and screeching rankled my nerves but
was completely justified. For one short
moment, I considered adding scissors to my tool selection. No, that’s not where this ill-advised journey
ended. We tried again and again. The bus had gone and the deadline for getting
to school loomed close. After one more
attempt, Jennifer agreed to accept the result with the knowing look that her
father was not properly equipped for this task.
Her first significant lesson in parental fallibility had been
delivered. I would not let her say
goodbye to her mom; we simply got in the car and headed to school.
When the package of photos came home for us to select the
perfect likeness of our child, I hid it unopened for a few days trying to delay
past the ordering deadline. I shouldn't have worried. When we all reviewed the
proofs, there was unanimous agreement that the photographer hadn't captured the
essence of our kindergartner.
It is difficult to understand how DNA constructed in a
double helix couldn't include the step by step instructions for braiding a
pigtail but the evidence is indisputable.
Some things simply shouldn't be attempted by some people.
--td