Disciplined to Discipline
Dad was a master disciplinarian with a large repertoire of maneuvers. Among them, his favorite…a haircut.
I was a baldheaded child, and as I surpass mid-life I am reliving my childhood. But there was a time when I could grow hair…more than my father was comfortable with. If I wanted to fit in, I had little choice. I was a child of the seventies and the hippie generation. Though my hair never crept below my shoulders, it snuggled near them…until I infringed upon one of Dad’s critical rules. Then I was conveyed to the place I despised-the barbershop.
Dad disciplined because I needed discipline. His discipline also helped clear my conscience. Read more...
I was a baldheaded child, and as I surpass mid-life I am reliving my childhood. But there was a time when I could grow hair…more than my father was comfortable with. If I wanted to fit in, I had little choice. I was a child of the seventies and the hippie generation. Though my hair never crept below my shoulders, it snuggled near them…until I infringed upon one of Dad’s critical rules. Then I was conveyed to the place I despised-the barbershop.
Dad disciplined because I needed discipline. His discipline also helped clear my conscience. Read more...
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