My reflection stared back at me faintly this morning in the large plate glass at the front of the Vonn’s supermarket. My family-oriented lifestyle, shall we say, keeps me on the road constantly these days, and this time I found myself with my long bangs flying all over the place. I wasted little time in procuring a new Ace comb and some hairspray to whip my hair into submission.
As I made sure that no hair was out of place, I was mentally transported to a memory that surprised me: when I was a boy of about ten, one of my prized possessions was a bottle of hairspray. I can remember the simple black and white bottle. Growing up in Louisiana, I wasn’t exactly living the life of luxury, and I rarely asked my parents for anything out of the ordinary. At the barber one day, however, I asked for that bottle.
