It's time we realize that the cowlick is no longer with us - at least no longer around to any major degree. Although cowlicks might be familiar to those of us who are members of the baby boomer generation, I'll wager good money that many younger people today have no idea what they are (or should I say, what they were).
I'll also bet that young farm kids today might think they are large blocks of sodium chloride that the cows can lick when they get a craving for a salty treat. In today's society, one rarely sees a cowlick on anyone's head, and even more rare is spotting a cowlick similar to the one sported by Alfalfa on The Little Rascals.
Alfalfa photo, courtesy of Google Images
Reasons for its demise
If a young girl is born with a cowlick in modern times, it's likely never to be noticed by anyone as she grows older. The reasons for this are three-fold. First is the proliferation of hair dressers, salons and beauty parlors, which are found in higher numbers in every city or town in the country, than there are grains of sand on a beach. These salons are well-equipped with numerous hair dryers using heat so intense, they can reshape a steel beam. Hair strands are no match for these appliances which have been known to cause severe droughts in parts of Texas.
The second reason for the demise of cowlicks lies in the chemical make-up found today in solutions of the perm that some women get biweekly at these same salons. These compounds are so powerful that they literally can reshape an old oak tree planted a century ago. It won't be long until we have no need for pruning shears or saws.
Thirdly, comes the advancement of another powerful synthetic compound meant to subdue the most stubborn hair strands. This is known as hairspray. Hairspray is nothing new. I recall my aunts many years ago using it to keep their beehive hairdos standing straight up, two feet high, on their heads for weeks at a time.
I recall an incident one time where my Uncle Frank was stung by something early one morning before he got out of bed. Coincidentally, later that same day, my Aunt Agnes was notified at her hair salon that hornets had taken up residence in her high hairdo. As I recall, her hairdresser simply zapped the insects with another shot of hairspray and the hornet problem was solved.
And as hard as it might be to believe, hairspray today can keep a woman's hair motionless as she walks through a desert during a sand storm. If the spray is allowed to set, like concrete in a sidewalk, there is little chance that hair movement will take place for weeks or even months afterwards.
Reasons for the cowlick demise in a man's world
Since many men today visit the same salons as women, one can deduce that cowlicks have bordered on extinction with them as well. In addition, some men suffer from male pattern baldness and as a result may keep their heads shaved. Today, a man's cowlick has little chance to make it to the advanced stage when it becomes visible.
We can thank the Black men in America for advancing the style of a shaven head. As Dave Barry wrote once in an article in the Miami Herald - "Black men look good with a shaven head. Whereas white men look like a thumb." Now, because of sheer numbers, white men no longer stand out with their heads shaved. They've blended into society as much as cell phones in teenagers' hands. This is great news for balding men, but terrible news for cowlicks.
Historical documents indicate that Betsy Ross tried to make a cap prototype and asked Ben Franklin to try it on. The use of the cap was put off for another 150 years because Franklin refused to wear it. In one of his early almanacs, he declared, "I'd rather suffer a lightning strike while flying a kite in a thunderstorm than wear that on my head."
May cowlicks rest in peace
Just as a mama cow has to eventually let go of her calf after persistent licking, causing the fur to become matted in spots, we too must let go of our cowlicks. After all, they had a good run. And who knows? It is entirely possible that they may make a comeback someday, too. But for now, it's time to wish them peace and say goodbye, much like my Uncle Frank did with those hornets.
