~for my father~

Of all the advice my father ever gave to me in the 28 years we were able to be together, I will never forget what I consider to be his best counsel to me.  It was when I was a teenage girl growing up in the small Reno County town of Haven, Kansas.  I had just made a trip to Grier's Pharmacy on Main Street, hard earned tips from my waitress job at our family cafe in my pocket, to purchase my "first ever" supply of make up.  I wasn't sure what my mom and dad would say when they found out I'd spent over $5 on stuff such as that but I was soon to find out.  I remember so vividly walking into our house that day, just hoping that neither of them were there so I could find a place to stash it away until the time was right.  But no sooner had I opened the front door to go in,  did my father call my name from the kitchen table.  "Peggy, is that you?"  With a fear of dread, I walked into that kitchen and 43 years before I would recognize it to be a popular saying, I knew that I was "busted".

You know it wasn't because John and Lois Scott  were mean or "old-fashioned" that neither of them wanted their 5 daughters to be wearing all that much make up as teenage girls.  Shoot, they weren't out to force the good shareholders of companies like "Cover Girl" and "Revlon" to take a huge hit in their pocketbooks.  They just didn't care that much for girls looking like they had painted their faces on each morning.  It was as simple as that.  As I stood there looking at my father that afternoon, bag full of make up in hand, I wondered what he would say to me.  I was prepared for the worst.

"What's in the bag?", he softly asked me.  When I explained what it was and reminded him that I had spent my own money on the purchase of it, my father didn't give me the stern lecture that I had almost expected, rather he delivered to me the sweetest and kindest twelve words I had ever heard him speak.  "Peggy Ann you don't need make up.  You are pretty enough without it."  That was it, not a word more from him on the subject.  You know, the strange thing was that I believed my father that day.  His words went straight to my heart and because of how much I respected him I can remember tossing the bag into the trash can and that was that.  And now at age 57 and quickly approaching 58, what you see when you look at my face is the natural way I have always looked (sans all of the "old person" wrinkles :) )  Just as an aside here, almost all of the women I know put on make up each day~heck they wouldn't dare to leave the house without some on.  I admire you that you have a steady hand and an "eye" for knowing how to do that stuff my dear friends.  I don't.

But there was one other thing that I started to do in my young adult years that my dad never was too crazy about and it had to do with my hair.  The seven kids in my family were blessed with different colours and shades of hair, some of us had thick hair and some of us not so thick.  My sister Janice had blonde hair while the other four of us girls had medium to dark brown hair, with mine being the darkest.  My two brothers had reddish blonde to light brown hair.  When you stop to think about it, we had a nice assortment amongst us.  But as for me, I never was really all that crazy about the real colour of my hair.  

By the time my senior picture was taken in August of 1972, my dark brown hair was very long.  It was so long that it reached well below the middle of my back.  Of course, it was parted straight down the middle in the style that many girls followed that day.  My mother loved to braid it for me and when she had the time, she often would put it into braids so I could wear it that way to school.  After graduation, I decided that I'd had enough of long hair and without telling anyone, I went to the beauty parlour (as we called it back in the day) and had the hairdresser cut it all off.  When I came back home, much to everyone's surprise, I looked a whole lot different.  Even though my parents loved my hair long, they could have gotten over the initial shock of it all.  But I had done one more thing~I had "frosted" it so that all over my head of hair, little streaks of blonde shown through and oh how that didn't go over so good.  Off and on (more on that off really) I have coloured my hair in some fashion or another, mostly blonde until today my hair is really a LOT blonde.  My mom, well I guess she got used to it finally because she never really said a whole lot about it after that.  But my father, well he never really did like it that way.  

Funny how you recall the things that people have said to you over the course of your life~I know I remember what he said.  He called me by both of my names and when my father did so, well I knew I should be paying attention.  "Peggy Ann, why did you do that?  You always have had such pretty dark brown hair."  He never said anything more about it but I always remembered his words to me and even though he's been gone now for over 30 years, I still think of him and all of the sage advice and wisdom he imparted to me and all of my 6 siblings before his death at the very young age of 59. 

So today, I honoured my father and decided it was time to get back to my "roots" so to speak.  I paid a visit to the local hairdresser here and asked her to take out a lot of the blonde and begin to weave back in what would be as close to my normal hair colour as possible.  Not all the blonde came out this time (in fact a goodly share is still there) but no more went in either.  Little by little, it will happen and actually I'm pretty glad that I did it.  Gets kinda expensive to keep retouching the roots any ways when the regrowth starts and since I really consider myself to be a "low-maintenance" woman to begin with, it just seems more fitting.  

As yet another an aside and with respect to women everywhere, those that I know and those that I do not~I have met plenty of women whom the world considers beautiful and I admire their beauty.  I can see why others would want to emulate them, copying their hairstyle, the way they put on make up, or the clothes they choose to wear.  Yet in my opinion, the really beautiful women in this world are the ones whose beauty starts from the inside, from their heart and soul.  You might look a "million" on the outside but if that radiant beauty is not there on the inside in your words and actions, well that million gets de-valued pretty quickly.  

As for me this day, I know who I am.  I am the daughter of a Kansas farm couple and their blood runs through me.  I miss them both and love them still this day.  If you are still blessed enough to have a father or mother then hey you really ought to call them up, please?  Engage in conversation with them and listen, really listen to what they have to say to you.  Some of the best words that you have heard spoken may be yours to hear this day.  Take care of yourselves everyone and of one another too.  By the way, thank you for being my friend and accepting me as yours no matter what my hair colour is.  I choose you to be my friends because of what is in your hearts and that is really all that should ever matter in the first place.  Have a great night everyone!  Greetings to all of my friends and family back home in south central Kansas.  I'll see you guys in a couple of weeks or so.

I love this man~my father, John B. Scott, Jr.  He died in 1982 at the very young age of 59 from lung cancer.  He was the finest man I ever knew and I am so glad that God chose him to be my daddy.  I'll see him in Heaven some day, I am sure.