Maurice at the Kut 'n Kurl

Dear Friends,
I cannot believe it's Friday morning! This week traveled by quickly. Happy New Year to all you young women. Try not to take the world on your shoulders. Jesus handles this, not you. Be happy as you can with what you've got.

Wednesday was my last beauty parlor appointment with Maurice at the Kut n' Kurl. He says his hands are giving out on him after all these years of standing behind women rolling the curlers and putting in perms. He's older than I am so I knew this was coming. It's the end of an era for all of us who see him once a week or twice a month (some women have curl and body in their hair, I don't!) He's been a fine confidant for many years. I learned to tell him only what I wanted broadcast after my second visit. When I first met him, I thought, "Here is a beautician who can listen and not tell." I was right about the first part. He's a beautician. He spreads news better than the local paper.

Over the years, because I like him and how he does my hair, I learned to appreciate how he sifts through what I tell him to pick out the good parts then sends them out on the Maurice News Wire. If I wanted to have help with the Annual Cemetery Clean-up, I didn't say, "I hope more people show up this year to clean up the graves", I'd say, "Maurice, you'd think people would go cut the weeds and freshen up the plastic flowers on the graves of those they say they loved. You wouldn't believe what a mess that cemetery is. Looks like an abandoned hurricane debris pile. I heard someone was stealing the vases right off the graves!" After Maurice cleaned up this message, it would get back to me that people were breaking into graves and stealing jewelry off the dead along with carting off the plastic flowers and vases. When Annual Cemetery Clean-up day arrived, I'd see entire families coming at their dead with rakes, clippers, new flowers and so on. He was that good.

When I heard that Alberta Truett's daughter got pregnant in Birmingham, this was years ago, it bothered me that people would spread this kind of hurtful talk without caring if about the truth.
When Maurice passed this on to me, I said, "Maurice! I wish you'd get to the good part first!" He looked at me funny, he had perm papers and clips in his mouth anyway, and I went on: "Alberta Truett's daughter is horrified at the high living and tacky ways of some Birmingham ladies! She is taking these poor girls into her home to help them even though there are 8 churches between her house and the Piggly Wiggly. She was head cashier there." After Maurice cleared out the clips and perm papers, he got all teary about Alberta's daughter. "She's a lovely young women", he said, "I gave her the first perm she ever had that didn't come from a box. Her mother insisted on using those Tonette perms on that pretty girl until her hair looked like fried wire."

Well, from then on, Alberta Truett's daughter was as close to a Saint as we had back then being Baptist and all.

Got to run. I heard the mailman and I'm expecting my AARP magazine.