A brother-in-law's cling to hope.

My brother in law, who shall remain unnamed, but whose initials are K.E.N.T. H.U.R.S.T., frequently (as frequently as he can living 600 miles from Phoenix) attempts to poke fun at the fact that I have lost practically all of the hair on the top of my head.

Now, those of you who know me well, know that I would only be too pleased to loose what few remaining threads of hair I have left. When it comes to hair care, quite simply, I am lazy. If it is long enough that it needs to be combed, then it is time to get it cut. "Wash and wear." That's my motto. So, if what remains were to all fall out during the night, well, after cleaning up the mess on my pillow, I'd be a happy camper.

A couple of weeks ago, as we spent time together enjoying my in-law's 50th wedding anniversary celebration, the futile taunts began again. We were breaking lunchtime bread together in the Lion House, one of Brigham Young's former homes in Salt Lake City, now a restaurant. The food was excellent by the way. If you ever go, be sure to get yourself some of them rolls and slather on a bunch of the honey butter. Matter of fact, just shove a roll into your pocket for an afternoon snack and spoon all the butter into your mouth before someone else gets it. Now that's good eatin'.

Anyway, we're enjoying this lunch together and I am taking a couple of photos from different locations in the room. You know, for posterity and all. As I head back to my seat, I snap this photo of the top of Kent's head. Notice the reflection on top from the light. Notice as well the classic "male pattern" loss of hair from the entire top of his head.



Tonight, I had my wife take a photo of the top of my head. Never mind the stylish pajama bottoms; you know you like them. Focus your attention on the near-perfect shape of the top of my head. Since I don't often see myself from this angle, I wasn't aware that it is as perfect as it is. Amazing. Notice the reflection from the light.

Now, take a look again at my brother-in-law's head and imagine that the few stragglers that he chooses to grow long are removed. Seriously, is there any difference? I think not. I've tried to tell him this for many years now, but he refuses to believe me and continues to cling to this mistaken belief that he is not as bald as I am. Remove the comb-overs and, well, the proof is in the photos.

KENT: LET IT GO! It's ok! When we are restored to our perfect frames, you and I will have something more to look forward to than those who've lost nothing.

Bald is the best.