A well-dressed young woman named Patricia walked into my British Literature class. Her most attractive feature was a thick, glossy head of brunette hair.
I thought … if only all female students would go to such trouble before appearing in public. Nowadays, many don’t. I am appalled at how some dress: They wear shorts that are little more than panties, T-shirts that hang out from underneath their blouses, and dirty, unlaced sneakers. They look like tramps.
Then, one day the brunette arrived, not only dressed like a tramp, but also with streaks of fluorescent green hair, looking as if it had been dyed with antifreeze. Sadly, I shook my head, realizing that she had succumbed to a peer group fad.
Not long afterward, we were discussing a Shakespearean sonnet in which the poet comments unfavorably about his lady’s outward appearance: Her hair resembles black wires, her breath reeks, her voice is dull, she waddles when she walks, and so on. Even so, he loves her.
I asked Patricia why Shakespeare loved the woman. Her answer was dead on: “Because she was beautiful where it really counts: on the inside.”
Her response brought to mind a boyhood memory. One Sunday afternoon, my best friend and mentor, Jaybird, and I were lounging on his front porch when a car pulled up.
“I’ll swunnee,” Jaybird said, “Hit’s my old friend Leon.”
A tiny bow-legged little man with a missing arm and a hump in his back got out of the car. His wizened face was covered with a scraggly white beard, he walked with a cane, and was missing all but a few teeth. That is one ugly man, I thought.
Leon plopped down in a chair. “And who might this be?” he asked, pointing his cane toward me. Chuckling, Jaybird referred to me as his white son, Junior.
Leon began asking me questions. He wanted to know all about me, and every time I told him something, he’d pat me on the back and say, “Why, that’s wonderful,” “How interesting,” or “I’ll bet Jaybird is mighty proud of you.”
Then he returned to the car and fetched a bag filled with delicious candy. “Willie Lee always brings me some of his homemade candy, but this time he wants you to have it,” Jaybird said.
From then on, I looked forward to Leon’s visits, and he always brought candy. I forgot all about his disfigurements and ugliness. He was beautiful where it really counts: on the inside.
In our next session, Patricia showed up without antifreeze streaks in her hair, and I asked why.
“Because Mom said that natural is always more beautiful than unnatural and that I should take pride in how I look and how I impress others,” she said. “I couldn’t bear disappointing my mother, and washed out the dye.”
“Mom was right — your natural hair is beautiful.” Demurely she nodded and thanked me.
I thought to myself … Patricia, you are beautiful where it really counts: on the inside.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
