Thankfully, there is only one photo that I have ever found to exist that supports this tale. It is not one for general consumption and I pray that it lives its life in the confines of this family alone. Maybe I should put a clause in my will that the picture and the negative are destroyed upon my death.
I am not sure when this travesty began and I am not sure what spawned the interest in Cece’s head. I do remember that she was much smaller than in the photo when the fun of “doing Papa’s hair” began. I also know that Daniel and Rebecca got oodles of joy from assisting. The end results of their handiwork was not something I would display by parading around outside.
Barrettes, scrunchies, hair spray, goo and various odious hair gels were the implements of torture. I would end up looking like a cross between one of the kids on the old comedy, “Our Gang,” and a hung-over punk rocker when they were done. Cece and gang would proudly show their mother the fine results of their handiwork, preening as if they had been awarded a degree in beautician creativity. I am afraid that perhaps Xochitl and Rosa also were involved from time to time and so the legend may have a life of its own.
I believe the expression on my face in the picture says it all. That I was a practice head for Cece’s future expertise in hair arrangement (for which she is justly renowned) is somewhat of a consolation for the hours of pain and laughter (directed at me) that I endured. Fathers will do anything for their daughters!
JP 12-30-2011
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