|My father with soldiers at Pat Bay during WW2|
|Grandpa and Lyle just before Lyle headed|
overseas. He had a sad last visit
with his mother before her death.
After she graduated, Pat and my mother discussed getting rid of my pigtails and wondered if I would like to have a perm. Of course I was excited about the idea of curly hair (think Shirley Temple) so eagerly agreed. A few days later with great anticipation, I was off on my first trip to a beauty parlour. The procedure began with a wash and haircut, then my hair was wound onto very heavy metal rollers which were attached to long cords hanging down from a big stand, looking like something out of a horror movie. It probably looked more like I was being tortured than having a beauty treatment. All this was plugged into electricity which heated the rollers. It was so heavy, hot and uncomfortable, I felt like my neck would break.
When I look back on it, I think, "What price beauty?" I can't believe what I agreed to go through to have curls. Finally, it was complete and I thought I looked great, (I repeat, think Shirley Temple) but a year later it had grown out and I was back to pigtails.
A life lesson: a perm isn't permanent.