“Did I Shave my Legs for This?” -— Deanna Carter, 1995 debut album
It wasn’t my legs, but my head that I recently had shorn as free of hair as Kojak’s.
The purpose was to show support for my son-in-law Sean Lee who is undergoing chemotherapy to treat lymphoma. The cancer was first detected in a small tumor at the base of his tongue. More extensive tests found positive lymph nodes in his groin.
After the first round of chemo at M.D. Anderson in Houston, Sean asked his wife, Brenda, to shave his head to avoid the impending hair loss. Right away a couple of his friends, fellow students of years ago at Southwest Baptist University, formed a Band of Baldheaded Brothers.
I don’t fit in with this trio, but I wanted to show as much support as I could to Sean.
Granddaughters Emma and Alayna Johnson volunteered to shear my head, a task they seemed to relish a little too much. They did well, though, and only once did I think the clippers got a bit too close.
Many in Iola know Sean from his time as youth minister at First Baptist Church 20-plus years ago.
Today, Sean’s sense of humor has been essential during these trying times.
He got a kick out of a token I extracted from my collection, one of St. Peregrine. From what I could determine, the Catholic saint is the one people defer to when cancer strikes.
“A Baptist Catholic,” Sean kidded, although Grace Community Church in Roswell, N.M., where he is one of seven or eight ministers, is nondenominational.
My new look reminds me of my dad.
He had a good head of hair before he went to war. When he came home 2½ years later, he was almost bald.
Beverly says she likes my new look, as have several other kind relatives and friends.
I’m still trying to break the habit of reaching for a comb in the morning.
And in coming to terms with the new look I fathom that I’m a 1920s tough guy.
