The great red spot
Huzzah! The Annual Burning of the Scalp event is upon us.
It’s not really summer until I sear the flesh off the top of my head in a ceremonial ritual of warm weather. Every year, I burn my scalp because I go out without a hat or forget to slather sunscreen on my bald pate. I don’t know when I’m going to get it through my thick head that said thick head no longer has any thick hair protecting the top of it.
It’s almost the beginning of June, and I have a base tan – mostly. Some of me is tan, but there is a leftover white section on the underside of my arms, and a bright scarlet patch on the tippy-top.
Tan, white, with one lone red spot. Even Neil deGrasse Tyson might mistake me for Jupiter.
Here’s how it happened: Last week, on a gloriously beautiful day in the low-80s, I hiked the Panhandle Trail.
Hiked is a bit of an exaggeration. I walked on a flat surface for a few miles, along the ghostly memory of old train tracks. It was hardly an adventure. It was more of a brisk walk in the warm sun, gravel crunching underfoot. I strolled past a rock quarry, a windmill, several birdhouses, and a bike station, where I could have filled up a water bottle if I were smart enough to bring one with me.
No hat. No water bottle. It’s like I didn’t even try to survive.
Spoiler alert: I lived! There’s always a chance, though, that some other stupid decision will amend that proclamation before this goes to print. It’s like I’m a loophole in Darwin’s evolutionary theory, the oft-neglected treatise, the Survival of the Unfit.
The abandoned hat, a jaunty blue denim chapeau, lounged about on the passenger seat of my car when I returned hours later, mocking me. It made it from the closet to the car, but no further.
Also, I found a stainless-steel water bottle in the trunk. I had all the items I needed to survive, but left them hanging out in the Mazda, where they served no one.
I plan to be outside all summer: on the trail, in the pool, in the yard, soaking up sunlight like a photovoltaic solar panel.
The new plan (the same plan I made last year after I fried my melon) is to wear copious amounts of sunscreen in my thinning hair till it’s plastered down like the coif on a Ken doll, and/or cover the gourd with the aforementioned cap.
God help me if I forget that hat one more time. On the other hand, it will be easy to spot me. When you think you see a random red light in the woods, that will be the sun reflecting off my sunburnt bobble head.
I plan to enjoy the weather while it lasts. I hope you plan on enjoying these columns while they last, because it’s only a matter of time before I microwave my brain.