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Hair Today - Memories Tomorrow

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“Can’t live without them!”, that’s what my mother always used to say about curling irons. “Liz, we’re just cursed, you know,” she’d always say, “because our hair is not gorgeous or straight and it also is not curly enough to keep anything more than a lackluster limp spring at best.”

It’s funny the things you remember after someone is gone. I always thought my mom would be there for all of the important events in my life, but in three short months after a diagnosis of cancer, she was gone. Thinking of all the times we didn’t get to share makes me sad, so when I remember my mom I always try to think of the great times we did get to have together while she was still around.

Thinking of her hair advice always brings a smile to my face, so it is something I think of often. Having five sisters there were plenty of hair-raising tales growing up. I’ll never forget the time when we went to Camp Minnetonka for girl’s weekend. Each time I think of that wild and crazy weekend, the first of many, I feel like I am transported back in time.

“Mom, mom, we’re almost there!” I say as an anxious 16-year old.

“I know dear. We will be there in about five minutes.”

Mom always knows our estimated time of arrival. She should know since she’s been bringing my older sisters: Alice who is 35 years old, Agnes who is 33 years old, Jane who is 26 years old, Linda who is 21 years old, and Mary who is 18 years old. Together they had been coming up for this once-a-year weekend with mom since they each turned 16. It was a right of passage, you could say. This was to be my first year to get to tag along, having celebrated my 16th birthday just one short month ago. I can’t help but be excited as we near our destination.

“Liz, calm down! We’re just going to stay in cabins for the weekend, not going to see rock stars. Sheesh!” says Alice exasperatingly.

That’s Alice for you; the oldest and always the first to bring you back down to earth.

“Oh Alice, leave the poor kid alone.” chimes in Ag, “She’s excited and has every right to be. It’s her first time up here. You’re not too old to remember your first time up here, are you? So, just cut Liz some slack.” God, I love Agnes. We may be 17 years apart in age, but we get along famously. She’s always been there for me when I needed her. She just seems to intuitively know when to step in on my behalf. I hope I grow up to be like her some day.

“Thank goodness we’re almost there,” Mary says as she squirms in her seat, “I have to pee really bad.”

When doesn’t she have to pee? Every time there’s work to be done, Mary can be counted on to skitter into any nearby restroom, thereby alleviating her of any chore needing to be done. That’s the way it’d been most of my childhood, but it took me until adulthood to realize this manipulation technique. Quite clever of Mary, don't you think? Now, I bet, it was a tactic to get out of taking

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