Orchard White

(1988 August 26)

While I was sitting under the dryer [at the hairdressers], directly in front of me came a mother wearing a shampoo cape, on her lap holding a dear little girl about a year old who had colorless hair that needed cutting. She howled as she had a right to while being held and cut. - Suddenly a piece of a poem I wrote about 75 years ago flashed thru my brain: "My mother held me tight / And rubbed on Orchard White." She was ashamed of my tan, not fashionable as now, and was getting me ready for school, to my disgust.