Guys of a certain age might remember how hair length of boys was a big deal, depending on the year, geographical region, or institutional influence. Younger guys may not have a full appreciation for the battles that went on because of it. I was a good church-going kid, so good that I was appointed a deacon at age 16, with the same rights and responsibilities as any other deacon. Nonetheless, walking out of church one day, a member said to me, "I almost didn't recognize you with your hair so long." I had two friends who were exceedingly responsible and hard working, who my dad called Philicia (Philip) and Scottricia (Scott). He liked both of them a lot, even spending several weeks helping one re-build an MG in our garage. The wife of the owner of a music store where I started teaching at 17 started calling me Laricia. I asked her why she did that. She made the mistake of saying it was because she was the boss-lady. Of course, for the next day or two, I was all boss-lady this and boss-lady that, before she wisely capitulated. Prior to that, I had a job in a potato processing plant. One day the supervisor told us we had better have our hair cut by Monday, or we'll get loaded into the bus and driven to the barber shop.