So... we have two separate cubicle areas on our floor. My coworker Lt. Commander By sits in one different from mine, so I have to walk paperwork over his way. He is usually sitting down, so I pat him on his head from time to time. That day, I commented on how well his hair laid down, even the gray hairs sprinkled throughout. I told him I couldn't get my hair to lay down like that for nothing in the world.
I went on back to my desk. About an hour later he comes rushing over. He shows me his hair brush.
"This is what I use to brush my hair," he said.
"I can't use that type of brush," I said. "I need a heavy brush with hard bristles."
"No, this is a good brush."
I leaned towards him and whispered, "You can use that because your great great great great grandfather was white."
He looked down at his brush. "Here. Try it."
Uhhh... didn't our folks teach us not to use other folks hair combs and brushes?
I didn't want to upset him, so I took the brush, and gently brushed my edges. Very lightly and gently.
This disturbed By something awful. I knew it did because he snatched the brush from my hand...
"Brush your hair, girl," he hollered. He grabbed my head and brushed it hard, trying to smooth it down. "Brush your hair!"
I was shocked. But I tell you, it felt good.
"You brushes out my hair when I was ailing, By," I said in my best Shug Avery voice. "When I was ailing!"
At the same time I was thinking... no screaming inside:
"Lord have mercy, please don't let this negro have lice!!!!!"
(or fleas. *gasp*)
...Because you know that we're not suppose to be using each other hair stuff!
I know he didn't have hair isshas. I have played in his hair too much over the years. And besides, Mrs. By keeps him and the boys lotioned up real good. I know she keeps everybody's hair combed, too. Yes she does.
I grabbed the brush from him and examined it. I was particularly interested in the back of the brush.
Wow! What happened to this brush?
"I don't know."
You know how my mind goes all wild. "Boy, this look like you saved all your chewing gum on the back of it and you couldn't get it off. This brush look like you were eating some pancakes and spilled your syrup on it and couldn't wipe it off."
"Dude," I continued. "This brush looks like it got stuck under the stove. Or under the 'frigerator."
"This brush look like somebody came in the house, talking a bunch of smack, and you got fed up and bust them upside the head with it. WHAM!"
Shut a sucker up real quick. LOL.
"That's my teenage brush," he said. "I have had that for years. Almost lost it one time when traveling, but we found it."
His teenage brush. So he's had that for over 20 years. Yes, that brush has been through a few things.
I tell you, that was one of my happy moments of the year thus far... that By brushing my hair.
I recanted that story a couple of times.
"He was rough because he has boys," my coworker said, referring to his hard brushing of my hair.
Yes. You have to be rougher with boys hair. I guess he'd been teaching them how to brush their hair.
I have a soft brush like that, but I threw it under the bathroom sink awhile ago. I dug it out the other day and brushed my hair... hard. And it worked out just fine. His brush was much better, though.
So thanks, By... for brushing my hair out while I was
(You better not leave that brush out on your desk, dude. I might take it!)