The George Washington 'Do

When my sister and I were little, we swam a lot at the public pool. It had large patches on the bottom where the sky-blue paint had peeled and left brown irregular polka dots. We half-joked that they were poop colonies, left by the little snot-nosed kids who didn't have the decency to leave the pool to do their business. There was an urban legend that someone had once squished their toes into one of the pool-residing turds. I remember being careful not to step on them and trying to push my sister so that she would step on them. Sisterly love.

It was at that same pool where I would loyally sit at the edge during adult swim and, unaware of the nubbies I was creating on the seat of my bathing suit as I dragged it on the abrasive cement, I would count the laps my mother swam. She would approach me, mouth opening like a fish and gasping for air. As she touched the side and began back for more, I would shout triumphantly, "TWENTY-TWO!!" making sure she could hear the count if her ear happened to be underwater. She didn't have to worry about the poop spots because her feet never touched the bottom of the pool.

If there was anything that could send my sister and I into a fit of giggles at the pool over and over again, it was the George Washington hairdo. Now mind you, my sister had extremely curly and at one point embarrassingly short brown hair. We called it her mushroom cut (a "bowlcut" gone amiss, tormented by her curls). This was not conducive to the 'do. I, on the other hand, had looong blonde hair that three summers in a row had an unnatural green tint from the chlorine in the pool. I justified that I was a Pisces, and admittedly tried to act like a fish on a number of occasions. Although not as successfully as my neighbor, Lucas Harris, who could be heard announcing from his 3 ft pool next door, "Beached Whale!" as he threw his own white flabby body, belly first, onto the sopping grass next to the kiddie pool.

But back to the George Washington. To accomplish this look, we'd immerse our heads underwater and then slowly lift them, facing the bottom of the pool all the while (probably looking the poop spots straight on, now that I think about it). This had a pleasing Cousin It effect that could only be topped by then gently flipping back the tips of the hair and pasting them to the back of the head, leaving a rolling wave along the hairline that perfectly outlined the face. This roll, in our minds, created a look that was the exact replication of our founding father, he who could not tell a lie, your hero and mine, George Washington. And the giggles flowed from our beings like the water flowed that from the pool jets, bubbly, tickly, and light.