
Unfortunately, I was a 14 year old shrimp with only a little facial fuzz and very traditional parents who thought long hair was a sign of satanic rebellion. I tried showing Dad multiple pictures of Jesus in my Sunday school quarterly to prove that long hair could be a godly look, but it was of no use. He wouldn’t even let my hair creep over my ears, much less flow across my shoulders. We were able to work out a compromise though. I WAS allowed to wear my hair down on my forehead like Paul McCartney, just so the back was neatly trimmed and the entire ear showed. He didn’t like my “bangs” hovering over my eyes, but it was a compromise he was willing to accommodate– especially when he noticed how many of my friends were actually chasing the Jesus look, while their parents were obviously looking the other way. For me it was just the best I could get, even though I looked like a clean cut guy with love beads and a brown possum resting on my forehead.