Dad was blessed with a head of beautiful thick, red hair (which he has passed onto his daughters). One of my favorite memories is Dad allowing me to climb on the back of the couch on many occasions and play hairdresser with him. I would brush and comb and then put barrettes in it. He never seemed to mind. Looking back maybe for him it was a nice hair massage, but either way it was a memory of me and dad playing together. Throughout his whole life Dad had a lot of hair. Eventually, around 80 years of age, his hair started to go a little gray, but he maintained most of his natural color. He never had to worry about washing that gray right outta his hair...remarkable. When I was visiting Dad, he would often reach out and touch my hair. I guess to stroke it. One time, he reached out and asked "is that all yours?". I replied, "Yes". He then said, "You have to wear that all the time!" And then shoke his head. It was such a funny quizzical moment to always cherish.