afterward, we all piled quickly into the trailer that my aunt's six-member family called home and sat out the storm that was pouring down outside and taking the electricity with it. michael did his best to scare the shit out of us by candlelight and flashlight as i piled piece after piece of fresh'n'up into my mouth and snuggled farther down into my raggedy ann and andy sleeping bag.
"don't forget to spit that gum out before you fall asleep," my mother foreshadowed. i'm seven. why would i forget to spit my gum out before i fall asleep? i'm a champion gum chewer... the many crusty gum savers scattered about my room and gifted to me by my paternal grandmother can attest to that....i thought.
the sunlight pried its way under my eyelids as i slowly came around and noticed everyone else was still asleep. my hands flew to my semi-long hair and in a panic, i realized i had, in fact, fallen asleep without spitting out my gum. as the horror set in, i tried to swallow my embarrassment and quietly waken my mother and only my mother.
i'd never been to have my hair cut by a paid professional before. and by the time i had left the salon that bright, rain-soaked, late-70's morning, dorothy hamill was my new hero as a modified version of her hairstyle swung about my face. my mother was already sporting the 'do and my sister, not wanting to be odd man out, eventually hopped on the train as well. i'll have to review photos to see if my father wasn't surreptitiously far behind that trend as well in addition to his brawny man beard and moustache.