THE MIDDLE ROAD. Not a place I know well, am prone to explore, or even feel comfortable navigating. That’s not the sister I am. Never have been. And yet, that’s what I’ve just been told to do. What to do? [click to continue…]
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WHAT’S A REDHEAD to do? We try to behave. Really we do. And we try to calm our tempers. But it’s no good, as little good as trying not to feel the sting of the pain at the dentist, or letting ourselves go under at the anesthesiologist; asking us to behave is like asking us well, it’s like asking a redhead not to blush. It’s just not going to happen, now is it? And why would it, when yet another American icon has gone and reinforced the idea that redheads are–how shall we say—hot?
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WHO CROSSED YOUR PATH FIRST on New Year’s Day? If it was a redhead, you may need to fasten your seat belt for a bumpy 2010, since at least one beginning-of-the-year tradition holds that the person first crossing your threshold in the new year decides the luck you’ll have for the next 365 days. [click to continue…]
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I TOLD THEM, AND I TOLD THEM, and I told them again. And still the doctors did not listen. I awakened during procedures; worse, I never fell asleep. Then, finally, science backed me up and I had something to show my doctors before they brushed away my claims of both needing more anesthesia and feeling more pain than most people. Turns out that I am one of a rare breed of mutants who does. Are you? [click to continue…]
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I THOUGHT THIS WAS ME. So did Margaret. Despite the fact that it’s a boy, it looks exactly as I did at the age that I began my happy days at P.S. 94 in Little Neck, Queens. And the attitude. Yup. Same. I actually stopped and stared at it, wondering how that could be. Has this happened to you on the Internet, running across something deeply, weirdly familiar? It just happened to me.
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Maybe my red hair made me search for our genetic and genealogical history.
O NE HUNDRED MILLION Americans are tracing their roots, and while genealogy is a fast-growing American pursuit, many people begin their search with little more than an old photograph and a shred of a family tale. That’s all I had, and as we learned from the recent mystery of the twins here on TSP, much can be learned from very little. While researching a book on redheads a few years ago, for instance, I tried to trace my own hair color. [click to continue…]
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JUDAS WAS A REDHEAD. And that was pretty much that for any hope of redheaded men ever being considered icons of attractiveness, trustworthiness or temperance. Red-haired women, by comparison, fare far better, forming a sisterhood whose stereotypes are far more flattering, though no less ancient. [click to continue…]
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I DON’T KNOW MUCH about geometry, but Margaret sees the metaphor of math in life. She was much quicker than I in seeing how sisterhoods are sets and subsets, as well as how varying pods of women gracefully flow into our lives and then ebb away when a shared goal is reached. She is also more patient. Me, I’m always in a rock fight with someone—however metaphorical—and the only math I seem to do is keeping score of who did what to whom. I’m unwilling to see things in the tidy terms of pie, flow and bar charts, but it’s unclear if I come by my outlook via nature or nurture since I am a redhead. Which, Margaret points out, is a sisterhood of its own: the Sisterhood of Red Hair. [click to continue…]
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