The reality for me
is that I did not get to enjoy a full head of hair for very many years. My hair started a slow recessional at about age 14, quickened to a trot in my later teens and flat out ran down hill in my 20s.
I graduated from college in 1989.
I will forever be grateful for the experience. I met some great people, learned responsibility, was busier than I had ever been in my life, learned to finish what I started and met the woman I thought I would marry and spend all of my remaining days with. Actually two, but that's another story kids, because I ended up marrying the third girl. I hope they can both forgive me for being stupid. I loved them both so much, and I knew I had to choose, but the reality was, I was so broken inside from sexual abuse as a child that I never really had a choice to love either of them. I released my own metoo story late last year at the end of 2017. But that's another story too.
Now don't go feeling sorry for me,
I have a great life and I'm not just a fighter, I'm a helper. Also, I had the opportunity to confront my attacker when I was 15 years old. My voice had finally changed by then and I told him quietly, the next hand you put on me you're not getting back.
Ah yes, the third girl. Because redheads. Why universe, why?
Redheads. Now that's definitely another story. One of the greatest joys of my life is when I'm playing a gig and I see a guy trying to lead a redhead around the dance floor. It's like watching a slow moving train wreck every time. Sometimes I'll say something after the song to the guy from the stage like, ‘welcome to redheads 101 buddy, that girl is never going to do anything that she doesn't want to do so don't bother trying to twirl her.’
Without being too dramatic
I realized that whenever I see a pretty redhead, Kenny Loggins’ Danger Zone from Top Gun starts to play in the back of my mind. As the volume increases and her beauty punches the security code into my DNA that disables my self preservation mode, I can feel the aircraft bucking violently underneath me as I go to full burn and bank hard to come around for a look. The GForce sucking me into the seat, the smell of jet fuel, the thrust from the engines and the sharp radio static as my voice yells into the radio, ‘Danger low to the left, low left low left,’ is like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.
You're sitting there wondering
why I’m fearlessly talking about redheads aren’t ya. It’s because I was married to one and, thusly, have had all fear of anything on this earth removed for me permanently. After being divorced from her for many years I had a vivid dream. As I rounded a large tree on a trail in Algonquin Park, Canada, a bear stood before me. I knew it was a dream because there are no grizzly bears in Algonquin Park that I'm aware of.
A thousand pounds of fur, teeth and claws stood in my path on its hind legs and roared you shall not pass like Gandalf the Grey and the Balrog. I remember not doing anything that you should do when a bear confronts you. I didn't run and I didn't play dead. I remember feeling really calm and I spoke to that bear. I told him quietly, buddy there's an easier fight for you down the trail, I was married to a redhead. In my dream the bear dropped to all fours immediately, shook his head as if to say sorry, my mistake, turned and headed off into the trees.
Like a child who has forgotten paper clips, pennies and wall sockets
I had another experience with a redhead recently. I used most of my best moves and lines on her. She texted me one day to say it probably wasn't going to work out because she was pregnant and trying to work it out with the father. Come on man, I'd rather deal with that bear.
1991 found me working as head of security
for a large hotel that is attached to Calgary International Airport. It was a Delta Hotel the last time I passed through, but back then it was a CP hotel. There's probably another story there because I was a track man for CP rail years before that. Canadian Pacific Railway also had their own police at that time. I know this because I had to call them once for a bomb threat report. It did take them a while to arrive and I'm not kidding when I tell you they arrived in a K-car. CP police. Saving the world 95 km per hour (59mph) at a time.
At that time I was dating the redhead
that I would eventually marry and have two children with. I met her during the ‘89 Olympics in Calgary. And yes, I really did get to see Eddie the eagle fly with my own eyes. As head of security for the hotel, my task list was fairly broad. 911 hadn't happened yet and I didn't carry a weapon, and as such I kept myself in much better shape and wasn't too bad at Shotokan karate. At least good enough to get a silver medal at a tournament. I would do regular rounds, interact with the guests, walk employees out to their vehicles who felt unsafe, and check abandoned luggage, like the one time I found a briefcase in a stairwell. I also did a little bouncing in the hotel bar when needed. The toughest part of the job was that it was 11 at night till 7 AM five days a week. I would finish my week Friday morning at 7 AM and I wouldn't go to sleep until that night so that I could reset my internal clock just enough to date my redhead for the weekend.
So what does all this have to do with my hair loss journey you ask?
Well, in the context of this backdrop I would inevitably watch a little late night TV at work. Let me tell you that there's a reason that they call it late night TV. At about midnight or midnight and a half they would start in on me.
Hair loss commercials.
Every night five days a week I was assaulted with an enthusiastic voice asking me if I wanted to feel like a real man again and use their hair grow product. I wouldn't even punch that guys head off his shoulders if I met him. He was just doing a gig like the rest of us. The reality is, the latest procedures were, and still are, pretty horrific. Why on earth would I want to get plugs? It looks like someone got shot in the head with a bag full of roofing nails.
Driving home from work one morning
I remember listening to the local country station in Calgary and the announcer was laughing with his co hosts as they teased him about being bald. He told them flat out, I'm not bald I'm a solar powered sex machine. That struck me as pretty funny and it stuck with me through the years. I thought I would love to write a song about that one day and so I finally did. It just so happens it wasn't for 20 years.
I know what you're thinking.
Is that guy really a solar powered sex machine? First of all, a gentleman never tells. But I will tell you this. An absolutely gorgeous nurse who was vacationing in Cuba when I was there caught me checking her out. She had had a few drinks and she decided to give me a good ribbing about it. She told me, honey you couldn't handle all this, as she waved her hands up and down over her body like a TSA agent with a wand. She leaned in a little too when she spoke, and I'm not gonna lie, not only was she cute but her breath smelled like mojitos. Yum. Just like that bear, I told her, honey you're like a Lamborghini in a school zone. If you ever want to know what it feels like to get out on the highway and floor it you let me know. She giggled like a kid and put her hand over mouth, then threw her head back and laughed with delight. I didn't get the girl but we had one heck of a dance. And that time I wasn't dreaming.
Am I Casanova?
Well, I would say no, not really, but I also don't need to read the manual while I'm driving if you get my drift.
My CD release concert in 2013
was a real highlight for me. It was a sellout at 32 bucks a ticket at the Best Western Ballroom in Cobourg and I had a ton of support. A group of women who had heard the song before, and were coincidentally sitting in the front row, started throwing panties at me during the song. People crack me up.
Stacy Lee Guse who plays in the Western Swing Authority
was blessing me with her angelic backing vocals that night. When I tried to kick the panties off to the side she was kind enough to pick up a flaming red pair and hang them off my mic stand for me. What a sweetheart!
Oh yah, and Peter C Newman dressed up like Willie Nelson for me that night. Oh yah, I had previously dated his daughter. But that’s another story. Going for meals with Peter, that’s another story too. What a terrific conversationalist.
Thanks for taking the time to stop by the fire and have a coffee with me. See you next time down the trail.
Hope you enjoy the song :)
CLICK THE SONG TITLE TO LISTEN!
Solar Powered Sex Machine
Some guys can only whine that life ain't fair
Cryin’ like a baby ever since they lost their hair
Well get plugs and take drugs to try to grow it back
Never saw the point of worryin’ who needs that heart attack?
If the guys only knew man, they’d be green
If they saw the look in the eye of my beauty queen
Man would that ‘cause a scene
‘Cause I’m her solar powered sex machine
She’s addicted to me like a hot little cup of caffeine
Well I’m her solar powered sex machine
When she walks by with wet hair from the shower
There’s never any guessin’ how we’re gonna kill an hour
I’m her solar powered sex machine
She likes me down to the skin and her man not too thin
Loves the way I make her eyes roll back and her head spin
I’m her solar powered sex machine
You won’t see me sleepin’ in ‘till noon
Or up all night howlin’ at the moon
Who cares if you’re forty ‘cause you still got plenty
I’m a one-woman man even though I’m wired for 220
She’s the only one that makes me wanna work it
She just can’t get enough loves how I overload her circuit
When she rubs my head three wishes I grant
It’s at times that this that our clothes get scant
© Michael Arthur Tremblay 17.09.10
© I own all images
