You never know who's listening

    So this happened more than 20 years ago, but the subject came up again this morning while I was getting a haircut.

    When I was 55, I started having the hairdresser color my hair --that term sounds so much better than dying it.  Then on my 65^th birthday, I decided enough was enough.  It helped that by then First Lady Barbara Bush, who was about my age, was running around with that spectacular white hair --you can’t tell me she didn’t get some chemical help with that too.  

    So I started letting my hair grow out, with a kind of messy tweedy look for a few months.  And lo and behold, I noticed that the Queen of England, who is indeed my age, had evidently reached the same conclusion at the same time, and and had a kind of messy tweedy look, letting HER hair grow out.

    Now in those days I used to record weekly segments about real estate, for a program on our public radio station.  So down I went with a month’s worth of discussions all printed out, and sat down in the recording booth with my good friend the show’s host.  And he must have made some comment about my changing appearance, or how did we get to chatting about it?
I said I’d decided enough was enough. 
He said his hair had turned grey while he was still in his 20s. 
I said it matched his youthful face.
He said his mother had white hair while still young. 
I mentioned the Queen.
 We kicked it around some more.
Finally he said okay, let’s record some real estate.

    And a few weeks later, I met a woman in the supermarket who said “I heard you and Simon on the radio this morning, talking about hair for ten minutes.”