The barber trimmed a portion of my cranium that has never required cleaning before. What was going on? Why are the scissors resting so high on my dome-piece ?
Then, just as I looked into the mirror and established a visual, it hit me: he was leveling the remaining hairs which stood in a battlefield who's victor had been determined many years ago. He mowed those poor innocent hairs down, as if to say, "let's make it official."
Alas, all is not lost. Mom's Dad had a full head of hair into his 90's. Keep fighting the good fight!