The Weekly Newspaper serving the citizens of Morenci, Mich., Fayette, Ohio, and surrounding areas.

  • Front.cheers
    MACEE BEERS joins other Fayette Elementary School students for the annual Mini-Cheer performance during the half-time break at the basketball game.
  • Family.3.wide
    CHILDREN at Stair District Library’s Family Story Time toss scarves into the air during an activity. The evening program provided a mix of stories, songs, dancing, crafts and snacks Monday evening. The program is offered at 5:30 p.m. every Monday for five more weeks. The program is designed for three to five year olds and their family.
  • Front.newpaper.2
    THE INTERVIEW—Evelyn Joughin (right) records the interaction with an iPad while Jack Varga, next to her, asks questions of Morenci Elementary School principal Gail Frey. Morenci senior Sam Cool (standing) listens. Cool serves as the editor for the newspaper written by members of Mrs. Barrett’s second grade class.
  • Front.code.2
    WRITING CODE—Brock Christle (left), a Morenci fifth grade student, takes a look at the progress being made by fourth grader Anthony Lewis. Libby Rorick, a sixth grade student, is next in a line of girls trying out the coding tutorials. This year marked Morenci’s second year of participation in the Hour of Code project.
  • Front.skelton.vigil
    MORENCI’S three Skelton brothers were remembered with both tears and laughter last week during a candlelight vigil at Wakefield Park. Several people came out of the crowd to give their recollection of the boys who have now been missing for five years.
  • Front.gym.new
    REMIE RYAN (left) tries to dodge the foam wand held by Hayden Bays during physical education class at Morenci Elementary School. In the background, Lauryn Dominique and Brooklyn Williams stay clear of the tag. Second grade students were working on cardiovascular health on the first day back from vacation. For the record, Safety Tag is a very difficult sport to photograph.
  • Front.lift
    MORENCI student Dalton McCowan puts everything into a dead lift attempt Saturday morning during the Wyseguy Push/Pull event. Lifters helped raise more than $1,600 for the family of the late Devin Wyse, a former Morenci power-lifter who graduated last year. Commemorative T-shirts are still available by contacting teacher Dan Hoffman.

2010.10.27 Too tired to color my hair or write a column

Written by David Green.

By COLLEEN LEDDY

I went to bed last night hoping I’d awaken in the morning divinely inspired with a column idea. But, since “last night” is merely a euphemism for 4:45 a.m., I knew I couldn’t expect much...especially since “morning” is just a another word for “hell on earth.” Needless to say, there was no divine intervention last night. So, here’s a repeat column from July 24, 2002.

You know how it is when you buy a vehicle and suddenly you notice that particular make and model and color everywhere, when, before your purchase, you were serenely oblivious to the existence of tan Chevy Venture vans? Seriously, they are everywhere.

After we bought ours, I noticed what appeared to be the same used vehicle for sale from our dealer. He’s forgotten to take our van out, I thought, while proofreading his ad. Since we purchased this item, I don’t know how many times in parking lots I’ve thought I’d located my vehicle only to discover I’m mistaken.

I’ve noticed this phenomenon happening in another arena: the top of my head. Well, not so much my head but other heads with hair my color.

As my hair has gotten way more gray than its original dark brown and I’ve fairly firmly decided that I’ll not be dyeing it any time soon, I’m always noticing women in the neighborhood of my age (44) with gray hair.

My observation skills aren’t exactly the greatest, but from what I’ve noticed, women seem to hit a certain age, and they cut their hair short and style it in basically the same manner, sort of a mannish above the ears hairdo, with wavy curls here, volume up there, and other stylistic differences, but mostly, it’s hair arranged on top of the head and not much below the ears.

There’s not a great deal of gray hair variety among women in the 40 to 50 age bracket in Morenci—many more women seem to color their hair. But at the Ann Arbor Art Fairs on Friday, I was astounded by the number of women with gray hair and the diversity of the women and the styles. It didn’t seem to be former dyed-in-the-wool hippie women who weren’t about to do something so unnatural as dye their hair. I saw quite a few gray-haired professional-looking women with classy manicured cuts. There were some throwbacks to the 70s, of course, (this was Ann Arbor) but, mostly, it was women who seemed to accept the color and styled and cut their hair no differently than if it were brown or red or blonde. And just like my tan mini-van, their hair was popping out all over the place. Styles, lengths, shades, textures: the assortment was fascinating.

My mother turned gray very early; I remember her speaking of a swath of white hair she had at the front of her head at 17. She dyed her hair almost to the day she died, black through her 50s and then blonde in her later years. Remembering all the work it took to color her hair and all the visits to the beauty parlor, the roots growing in so quickly, the stench, the expense, I was never interested in getting started.

At heart, it’s another one of those things I don’t do because I’m basically lazy when it comes to grooming. Applying make-up every Wednesday to transform myself into Gina the Gypsy for the summer reading program at the library takes me at least 20 minutes and it’s a pretty horrendous make-up job at that. I can’t imagine spending that amount of time every day when I could be sleeping. The idea of having to color my hair on a regular basis ranks right up there with shaving legs (a beauty regimen I bend to on special occasions but one that seems essentially pointless).

I could change. It helps that I don’t look at myself very often, and that, in my feeble head, I feel pretty darn young. I don’t see myself enough to have it sink in that I look washed up and faded. (There’s a reason God makes our eyesight fail as we age.) Some very nice women say they like my gray hair and wouldn’t dye theirs if they knew it would come in like mine.

And then there was the young woman who did my mammogram. Making idle chat, she said she really liked my hair. I looked at her quizzically.

“My hair?” (Or maybe it was, “My hair?”)

“Yeah,” she said. “I really like the way the color came in.”

“Or the way it went out,” I joked.

Because when the age issue is barreling down on you, what else can you do but laugh?

Heck, I’m just happy I can still tell the difference between gray-haired women and tan mini-vans.

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