My brother Robert, is a George Clooney character: Women love him and men want to emulate him. Growing up, my friends would swoon, "How's Hot Rob?" and come to think of it, they still do. He's a genuine modern-day swashbuckler but his tendency to buck trends has come down to the cellular level. As his peers faced dreaded hair loss, Rob's hair grew. And grew. And GREW.
In his SoCal youth, Rob was a surfer/skateboarder and later dabbled in modeling before giving it up. "I felt stupid," he'd said, "All that fake smiling, not for me." Later, he became a successful furniture designer/builder before he became what he is today, a Southern Land Baron.
After falling hard for a redheaded Southern pistol named MaryAnn, Robert made the big move to Mississippi. There on the bayou, he let go of the slick-suited dealmaker and became the shaggy hunter and land conservationist he is today. He grew a goatee that went gray, only making him more handsome, of course. The dearth of fancy salon haircuts combined with the South's thick humidity resulted in a curious head-worn spectacle the family now lovingly calls, "The Possum."
The hair on Rob's head didn't necessarily grow longer, it simply became BIGGER. Old-fashioned haircuts actually worsened the problem. Evidently it takes a uniquely gifted and incredibly patient hairdresser with a special thinning tool - not a ton of those in the Deep South, apparently.
This unruly bouquet of hair sprouting from my brother's head is all rather frustrating for my father, Bob, whose own balding head has long waited for his son's to repeat history. "When do I get my revenge?" he wonders aloud.
No such luck. In fact, Rob's hairline actually seems to be moving further down his forehead, wandering into Wolfman territory. That business about the mother's father being indicative of the son's baldness? Yeah, well, so much for that theory: Grandpa Wilbur was bald as a baby.
Due to the unruly nature of Rob's robust follicles, a cap must be worn on his head at all times. When dining out with the family, Rob and his wife were trying to teach their son good Southern manners. They told little Robbie that his cowboy hat had to come off as they were in an eating establishment.
"But why doesn't Daddy take his hat off?" he'd asked.
"Because Daddy's hair will scare the waitress and then we won't get our food, that's why," said all-serious Rob.
For the rest of us, it's fun to watch - like having a real, live Chia Pet in the family. Rob's had a bountiful life thus far and the latest evidence is coming out of his scalp.
Tell your own fun family stories in the comments - particularly if you have a brother you like to tease.
BlogHer Contributing Editor, Animal & Wildlife Concerns, Proprietor, ClizBiz
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