The Red Flannel Rag

Mom strumming “Wild Wood Flower” on the guitar.

After that dangerous incident, I asked Mom, “Why don’t you get your hair cut?”

She answered, “I can’t cut it. Just before he died, my daddy asked me not to ever cut my

hair.”

“But Mom,” I pointed out, “Grandpa’s been dead for twenty - five years.” “Don’t

matter how long he’s been dead, I made him a promise and I’m gonna stick to it,” she

stated, with a resigned expression on her face.

Years later, long after her long brown hair had turned gray, Mom started having

constant headaches. Her doctor told her the weight of her hair was causing her

problem. She came home from the doctor and said to me, “What am I gonna do? I

promised my daddy, I wouldn’t cut my hair.”

She struggled for several months with the choice of constant headaches and her

promise to Grandpa John. Finally, she asked me to take her to get her hair cut. While

we were at the beauty shop, I talked her into cutting it short and having a curly

permanent put in it.

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