In Nineteen-EIGHTY-seven, or thereabouts, my hair was longer than Mark’s (in 77 I was barely ten, so I couldn’t compete then).
I’m not posting pictures. Bad enough I have to explain to my children why Daddy’s left ear has a couple of holes in it.
In Nineteen-EIGHTY-seven, or thereabouts, my hair was longer than Mark’s (in 77 I was barely ten, so I couldn’t compete then).
I’m not posting pictures. Bad enough I have to explain to my children why Daddy’s left ear has a couple of holes in it.
LOL! In 1972 my “boyfriend’s” hair reached the middle of his back. I was jealous of his hair.
Mark’s never got THAT long, but he was pretty scary looking in 1987. The constant heavy metal soundtrack didn’t diminish his scaritude either.
The there was the incident where we got stopped at the Canadian border. Ah, the good old (stupid) days.
This is Mark (the one with picture included).
My long hair back then, I’m convinced, got me stopped by an Indiana state trooper for no reason that he would tell me (I was doing well under the speed limit). He proceeded to tear my car apart, to his frustration finding nothing more subversive than the case of Bibles I was carrying to a rescue mission in St. Louis. Guess it was a good thing it wasn’t the Soviet Union!