Today, being Tuesday, I had an early morning appointment with Helen Taylor, the hairdresser that works at the department store where my mom works. And I had to face the wrath of Helen about my black hair.

Amy and I were up early. I decided to be Tom today, so it was jeans, a shirt, and my hair in a man’s ponytail. We even had breakfast with my parents. And we needed to be at the department store at eight, so we dropped my dad off at the research center on our way downtown.

After dropping my dad off, we finished the drive downtown, parked the car, and walked to the department store. Since our appointment was before the store opened, we used the employee entrance.

We went up to the floor where the beauty shop was, walked in, and Helen saw us. She shook her head, and said, “Tom. It looks good, but … ”

“I know. I know.”, I said. “It isn’t going to be easy to go back to being a blond.”

“Come on back, and we’ll see what we can do. And I figure that you were out west again?”

“Yes. For almost three weeks.”

We followed Helen back to her workstation. I climbed up into her chair, she put a cape around my neck and looked at my hair. Then she said, “Your hair is in good shape. A few split ends, but not many.”

“I use the conditioner that you gave me all the time.”, I said.

“Good. That’s done its job. What kind of hair dye did you use?”

“Permanent.”, Amy said.

“Why?”

“I thought that it might look better than the temporary.”

“It probably does.”

“How long has it been in?”

“A little over three weeks.”

“Hmm. I have something that we can try. And hopefully it will work, and we won’t have to bleach it much if at all.”

“Give it a shot.”

About twenty minutes later Helen was rinsing the treatment out of my hair and giving it a good wash. After she rinsed the first wash out of my hair, she washed it a second time. Then she conditioned it. When she was finished drying it, she stood back, looked, and said, “It didn’t remove all of it. But it got most of it.”

“Honey, it doesn’t look bad.”, Amy said.

I turned and looked at it in a mirror, and said, “Yeah. I guess it’s not too bad.”

“Tom.”, Helen said. “You can either wait until it grows out or come back in a week and we’ll try bleaching it. I think it will take only one light bleaching, and then we can dye it very close to your original color.”

“See you in a week, Helen.”

“Okay. Bring in those pictures that you were telling me about.”

“We should have them back by then, so we will.”

While Helen had been working on my hair, we were telling her about our last trip out west. And she wanted to see the pictures when we came back in to see her.

As we were walking out of the department store, Amy asked, “So what do you want to do today?”

“Go home and hide for a week.”, I said.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate my hair this color.”

“It isn’t that bad. And, there’s the wig.”

“It’s black.”

“So. Just have black hair when we go out. You could be Kai or Tom or even Tammy with black hair.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t want to sit around the house for a week. Besides we have to take your parents to the airport on Saturday. And go and see the financial advisor tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I know.”

We went home, and Amy took me to our room. She put a wig cap on me and tucked my hair under it. As she did, she said, “Your hair is nice and thick and getting all of it under the wig cap isn’t easy. But I think we can do it.”

“I hope.”, I said.

Later that day when my mom saw me, she said, “Tom, what happened to your hair?”

“Ah.”, I said. “I had Helen start to get rid of the black dye job. And I don’t like how it looks right now. So we decided to use the wig until she can finish next week.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yeah. I hate my hair the way it is.”

“It’s not really that bad, mom.”, Amy said. “The color isn’t Tom. But I’ve seen others with the same color.”

“Honey.”, my mother said. “Let me see?”

I reached up, removed the wig, the wig cap, then I shook out my hair. My mom looked at it and said, “Honey, it isn’t that bad.”

“It looks like crap.”

“You’re just not used to it. Let Amy put it into a ponytail, and give it a chance.”

“Tommy.”, Amy said. “It’s only for a week. And it isn’t that bad.”

With a sigh, I said, “Okay.”

Amy took my hand and led me back to our room. She brushed out my hair and put it into a guys ponytail. Looking at it after she finished, it wasn’t bad. I guess I can live with it for a week.

On Wednesday, Amy and I went to see our financial advisor. We talked to him about the scholarship idea. And he said that it was a good idea and that we could set up something with growth stocks and bonds that should continue to provide one, maybe even two, scholarships a year. And our investments wouldn’t take a big hit to have it ready for next year graduates. He also said that it should be set up to accept additional donations. And of course that he’d be happy to handle the portfolio for us.

He suggested that we contact a lawyer to put the details together, and we told him that we already have. He asked us to ask the lawyer to contact him so that they could work together on this. We told him that we would and that we’d also talk to people in the Navajo Nation about the requirements for choosing the recipient of the scholarship. And we told him that we had already decided on the first recipient.

Thursday it rained all day. Strange for this time of year. So we decided to get the title changed from New Mexico to here on the new car and put it into both of our names. And get the new plates. So we spent the whole morning at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles doing that.

That afternoon Amy and I just sat, cuddled together on the porch, enjoying the rain and reading. Then we made dinner for the family. After we'd eaten and as mom, Amy, and I were cleaning up, I said, “It just hit me. But dad hasn’t said anything about my funky hair.”

“I told you.”, mom said. “That it wasn’t that bad.”

“I know. We’ll see if the crew says anything tomorrow night.”

“Going bowling?”

“Mom.”, Amy said. “It’ll be a little while before I go back there.”

Friday at least was dry. We did a little grocery shopping. With mom and dad gone for two weeks, we didn’t need to buy much. While we were out, we stopped to pick up the pictures from the trip. We picked up twenty envelopes of prints, and each should have thirty-six pictures in them. Yes, seven hundred and twenty pictures. I told you Amy was a shutterbug.

After we had put the groceries away, we sat at the kitchen table and sorted the envelopes into order. Amy, little miss organized, had placed a sequential number on each film can as she put the exposed roll of film in it. Then, when we were making out the envelopes for developing the film, she put the film canister’s number on its envelope. To start with, we sorted the envelopes in order.

As we opened each envelope, we looked at the pictures, and Amy carefully wrote the package number on the back of each print. There were pictures of some the barbecues, the dancers, the musicians, of my aunt and uncle, the chiefs, Naainish. Sunrises. Sunsets. You know the typical vacation pictures. There were pictures of the Grand Canyon, Zion, the Four Corners Area, Rocky Mountain National Park. And they were all great.

The pictures of our stay at the cabin were fascinating. The pictures of the fire tower and inside the cab were good. And Amy got some excellent shots showing how far you could see from up here. My dad will be interested in the fire spotting device. She even got good pictures of the porcupine and the bear. The helicopter was also there. She had taken some great pictures.

As she started looking through the pictures of our hike to the sacred place, I noticed a puzzled look on her face. And her befuddlement grew the more she looked at the pictures. Finally, I asked, “Amy, what’s wrong.”

As she spread out some of the pictures on the table, she said, “As we were hiking to the sacred place, I took pictures. These pictures.”

“They look like the woods we were hiking through.”

“They are. But what’s missing?”

I looked at the pictures, and said, “I don’t think anything. But since you’re asking, there is obviously something missing.”

“There is. I took pictures of all the markers we found.”

Pointing at one picture, she said, “This should be the arrow that was carved on the tree where the limb pointed down. Our first mark.”

“It does look like the moss covered tree.”

“And this one.”, she said as she pointed to another one. “Should have been the first marker tree. The one that was hit by lightning.”

Pointing at a third, she said, “This should have been the one that was pointing to the rock wall.”

Then pointing at one picture that just showed a blank rock face, she said, “This should have been a picture of that first arrow carved into the rock face with the hole that had our meteorites in it.”

Pointing at the next one, I said, “And I take it that this one is supposed to be of the arrow pointing up the rock face?”

“Yes. And the two I took up on the rock ledge are blank.” And as she showed me the blank negatives, she said, “See.”

“Yeah. Did you take any around the area where the engraved stone was?”, I asked.

“No. I didn’t think it was proper. There was something too special about that place. I didn’t even think about taking pictures there.”

I stood there and looked at the pictures. Then I said, “Do you suppose that those markings really weren’t there? That we were dreaming all of this?”

Amy touched her meteorite necklace, and said, “How do you explain these?”

“Good point. I touched those marker trees, and they were solid.”

“I touched them too. Do you suppose … ”

“What? Do I suppose that the sacred place was protecting itself, by only allowing us to see the markers? But shouldn’t the camera see them too.”

“I would think so. But if I was able to take pictures of the markers, then others could see them. And the sacred place couldn’t allow that.”

“So somehow it hid them from the camera, and somehow blanked the film of the pictures that you took on the ledge.”

“I don’t know. But your mother’s favorite saying is, the spirits move in strange ways.”

“Naainish says it too. And I think it’s going to become my favorite saying too.”

“Me three.”

Since mom and dad were leaving on vacation tomorrow, they were home early. They still had some packing to do. But when they came in the house they saw the pictures on the table, so we showed them the highlights. Minus the ones of the marker trees, or the ones that were supposed to show the marker trees.

Later while mom and dad finished their packing, Amy and I made dinner. And as we made dinner, I said, “Do you think we should say anything to mom and dad about those pictures from the area of the sacred place.”

“I’m not sure.”, Amy replied. “How do you feel.”

“I hate keeping secrets from them. But, I don’t think we should tell them. Maybe tell Naainish the next time we see him.”

“I think you’re right. I’ll put them aside.”

“Okay.”

After dinner, we were supposed to meet up with the crew at one of the drive-ins, but Mark and Maria couldn’t make it. So it was just Amy and me, and Kelly and Larry in my ‘57 Chevy ragtop. It hadn’t been driven in a few weeks, so I volunteered to drive and picked them up. The two guys were in the front seat, and the two girls were in the back seat. After a bunch of chatter, including that we had the pictures and they wanted to see them, Kelly asked, “What are you two doing next weekend.”

Amy and I looked at each other, and we both said, “We've got nothing planned.”

“Would you like to go with Larry and me to my parents for the weekend?”

“Sure.”, Amy said. “But why?”

“So that you can meet my parents before the wedding. Maybe see the church. Meet my cousin Mary Beth.”

“That could be fun.”

“Good. There’s room for you to stay at the house and we’ll drive.”

“Okay.”

“How about if I drive.”, I said. “This buggy hasn’t been out on the open road for a while. And, Kelly, if I remember correctly isn’t it about a three-hour drive to your home?”

“Just about two-and-a-half-hours.”, Kelly said.

“That would be a good run for this thing.”

“I’d better drive too.”, Larry said. “I was going to drive my dad’s station wagon because Kelly has a lot of things she want’s to bring back for the apartment, and I don’t think it’ll all fit in your car.”

“Okay. We can just follow you over.”

“Tom.”, Kelly said. “Remember my dad will come across a tough Irish dad. Just take him with a grain of salt.”

“Yeah.”, Larry said. “Just don’t get him into a discussion about the war. He’s very pro-Johnson and what’s going on.”

“Has he met your dad yet?”, I asked.

“Oh yeah. Only once and that was a little tense. Even though my dad served in World War II and Korea as a Military Policeman, he isn’t happy with Johnson and this war. He calls it a politician’s war.”

“I remember hearing him saying things like that.”

“Kelly and I were careful to steer the conversation away from politics and even the military. Both of them served in Korea, so it was tough to do.”

“Does Kelly’s dad know your feelings.”

“No. And if we can help it he won’t.”

“We talked with Larry’s dad about my dad before they met.”, Kelly said. “So he knows to steer away from politics and certain other things.”

“Believe me I won’t bring it up.”, I said.

Later that evening we told my parents that we were going to be gone next Saturday and Sunday over to Kelly's hometown. All my dad said was, “Be sure the house is locked, and that the timers are set on the lights.”

Saturday morning we took my mom and dad to the airport. They checked in at the airline’s desk and dropped their luggage. Mom had one small carry on bag. We walked down the concourse with them to their gate and sat with them until they boarded. As they called for boarding, we stood, and as my dad handed me an envelope, he said, “Open this after the plane’s departed.”

After we’d watched them walk across the tarmac and go up the boarding stairs, we went up onto the observation deck and watched as the plane taxied away from the gate and out onto the runway. Right after the plane took off, I took the envelope, that dad had given me, out of my pocket, tore it open, took out the paper, and unfolded it. I looked at what was folded up inside the paper, handed it to Amy, she looked at it, and said, “Oh my God.”

I looked at the paper that had been folded around the check, and read what was on it out loud, “Kids, This is to help with the scholarship that you are setting up. We think what you are doing is fantastic. Love, Mom and Dad.”

“They’ve got to be kidding!”, Amy said.

“I don’t think so.”, I said. “When it comes to money, dad doesn’t kid around.”

“But ten-thousand dollars.”

“I know. Our bank is still open. Isn’t it?”

“I think they’re open until Noon.”

“Good. I want to deposit this check.”

I won’t bore you with the details of the following week, except to tell you that mom and dad made it to Hawaii. And whatever Helen did to my hair on Tuesday got me really close to my natural color. Helen had also told me that as my hair grows out that we may need to do something else. And she liked the pictures of our trip that we brought in to show her. I also gave the ‘57 Chevy a good going over, and it appeared to be in good shape. Of course, we took it for a ride, with the top down, just to be sure.

We also didn’t hear from either the lawyer or the financial advisor this week. I figured that we wouldn’t, the wheels turn slowly.

Amy and I dressed comfortably for the drive to Kelly’s parent's house. I was wearing shorts and a button shirt, a pair of sneakers, my hair was in a ponytail, I had my meteorite necklace on, and a pair of stud earrings. Amy was in a long blue skirt and a fancy blouse. She was also wearing flats. Her hair was in a ponytail. And she was also wearing her meteorite necklace and had a cute pair of earrings on.

Then just before eight on Saturday morning, I checked all the doors and windows in the house to be sure that they were locked. I then pulled the ‘57 Chevy out of the garage and put the ‘61 Chevy in the garage. And Amy and I sat in the car waiting for Larry and Kelly. It was only a couple of minutes before they pulled up in Larry’s dad’s station wagon.

We got out of the car, and so did they, and we said good morning. Then Larry said, “Kelly’s youngest brother, Connor, will love your car.”

We all got into our respective cars, and Amy and I followed Kelly and Larry on a two-and-a-half-hour drive west. I knew that Kelly was from Indiana, but not exactly where. We headed for Indianapolis, then turned north towards Muncie.

Just south of Muncie we started onto some back roads and eventually pulled into the driveway of a large beautiful brick two-story house that sat on a nicely manicured lawn that looked to maybe be an acre or two. We parked on the circle driveway in front of the house, and all got out of the cars.

As Amy and I walked up to Kelly and Larry, I said, “Nice house.”

“Thanks.”, Kelly said. “Dad’s in banking.”

I didn’t say anything, but thought, ‘Hmm. A banker.’

As we walked up to the front door, it opened, and we were met by Kelly’s mother. After Kelly and Larry received hugs from her mother, Kelly said, “Mom, these our friends Amy and Tom Young. Amy and Tom this is my mother, Mrs. O’Brian.”

We exchanged greetings, and she invited us in. We walked into a nice foyer that had a winding staircase up to the second floor. Mrs. O’Brian then said, “Kelly your father and brother are out playing golf. They should be home shortly. And then we’ll have lunch.”

We followed Mrs. O’Brian into the kitchen, a large kitchen, with a table that looked like it would seat ten. And something smelled good. Mrs. O’Brian had us sit-down, and she got us something to drink. We sat and talked for about fifteen minutes, and then we heard a car pull into the driveway. And shortly, an older man and a younger man walked in through the back door. So far all the O’Brians were redheads.

The younger man said, “Who owns that cherry ‘57 Chevy?”

“Connor.”, Mrs. O’Brian said. “That’s not polite.”

“Sorry, mom.”, Connor said.

Kelly said, “Dad, Connor, these are my friends, Amy and Tom Young. Amy and Tom, this is my dad, Mr. O’Brian and my not so polite brother, Connor.”

We exchanged greetings. And I felt something about Mr. O’Brian that bothered me. I glanced at Amy, and I think she knew.

Then Connor broke my train of thought, as he said, “Tom, is that your ‘57 Chevy?”

“Yes. Would you like a look?”

“Sure.”

As I got up to go out with Connor, Mrs. O’Brian said, “You boys have fifteen minutes. And then lunch will be on the table.”

“Yes, mom.”, Connor said. “We’ll be right back.”

Connor and I went out to the driveway, and he really knows cars. He picked up on the car being stock. And I told him about the souped-up one that I saw in New Mexico.

As we looked at the car, Connor said, “Tom, my dad isn’t going to like your long hair.”

“Connor, let me tell you something.”, I said. “I’m part Navajo, and there is an old Navajo saying, our hair is our culture, our memories, and our choice. Just like your short haircut is your choice.”

With a grin, Connor said, “Not my choice. It’s the Marine’s choice.”

“So you’re a Marine.”

“Yep. I was in ROTC (Reserve Officers Training Corps) in college and just finished boot camp.”

When I said that I’d be happy to take him out for a ride after lunch, his eyes lit up.

We went back into the house, and Mrs. O’Brian and the girls were just putting lunch on the table. Connor and I sat, and Mrs. O’Brian said, “I hope you like shepherd's pie? It’s something we have on a regular basis.”

“Yeah.”, Connor said. “Only when we have guests for lunch.”

“Connor!”

“Sorry, mom.”

“For that young man, you can say grace.”

Before she served lunch, Connor said grace. Then I remembered Kelly telling us that they were strict Catholics.

As Mrs. O’Brian was serving the shepherd's pie, Larry asked, “So, Connor. Did you like Tom’s car?”

“Oh yeah! He said he’d take me out for a ride.”

“He’s only let me drive it one time.”

“Only once?”

“Yeah. I drove Tom to his wedding in it.”

“Cool.”

Mr. O’Brian hadn’t said a word but had been glancing at me every once in awhile. It was bothering me. Finally, he said, “So, Tom. You’re one of those hippies.”

I looked at him, and said, “Sir!?”

“You’ve got long hair, earrings, and a necklace. And your wife is wearing a long skirt. So you’re hippies. Aren't you?”

“No, sir. I am not a hippy! And neither is my wife. I’m a Navajo. A proud member of the Navajo Nation.”

“Oh. So, you’re an Indian.”

“Yes sir, I am. And proud of it!”

“You all should be kept on a reservation.”

“Excuse me!”

“I said, all Indians need to be on a reservation.”

"Oh! I heard you all right!"