A tail of
hair-oism
By Karen Janssen
Over the years, Lois Rozman has grown and donated more than eight feet of hair to be made into wigs for those with medical conditions involving hair loss.
While most of us fight and fuss with our manes, local hair harvesters share their tresses to transform others’ lives. Hair. In general, we take it for granted. It grows; we cut it. Genetics dictate its color, its texture, whether it sticks around or falls out. A lot of folks have mixed relationships with their hair. Those who have straight strands long for curls, those with curls wish for flowing locks. Men who had long ponytails in their youth may look back wistfully as they protect bald pates from the sun. Some folks find hair a pain: they take clippers and get rid of it, or beg their hairdressers to color, curl, straighten or style it. Some keep the same hairdo their whole lives; others experiment constantly. In some cultures, it’s a status symbol. On some heads and faces, it can be a thing of wonder: dreadlocks hanging in ropes down people’s backs, mustaches twirled and waxed to works of art. There are even world records: like the woman who wove 136 pencils into her locks, or the man who fit 101 Afro picks into his, or the intrepid guy who dragged a car more than 300 feet – with his ponytail. However, detach hair from its natural location on a body and it becomes disgusting. A loose hair in one’s food? Distinctly unpleasant. Hairs in the bathtub, in the drain, unattached strands haunting our clothes when we’re dressed in our best…. Yet there are those who view unattached hair in a completely different light. It can be a gift like no other, something to transform others’ lives. Lois Rozman is one of those people. For many years, Lois was the Town of Crested Butte’s finance and human resource director. In the fall of 2004, when Diane “Diner” Theaker, the Town’s administrative assistant (“not a good title for the gal who was the face and life blood of Town Hall,” insisted Lois) was diagnosed with 18
Nathan Bilow
breast cancer, a number of employees decided to buzz their heads in solidarity as she underwent her chemo treatment. “I told Diner I didn’t think I could do that,” recalled Lois, “and that instead I’d do the opposite. I’d grow my hair out long and donate it to an organization that could use it to make wigs for children suffering from hair loss. So I did!” But she didn’t stop there. “I seem to have a God-given talent for growing hair.” Lois laughed. More than 18 years later, Lois has grown and donated her locks eight times. Locks of Love and Wigs for Kids are the two organizations to which she has sent her ponytails, clean and rubber banded, ready to be crafted into custom hairpieces. Given that the minimum length for a donation varies from 10 to 12 inches, Lois has grown and bestowed approximately eight feet of tresses! “It all just began with a desire to honor Diner’s amazing spirit and love,” said Lois. “The last time I cut it, I kind of thought it might be the final time, but who knows?” Lois isn’t the only one in Crested Butte who has shared hair. I pedaled around and took an informal poll at many salons, to see how often it happens. Though not an everyday occurrence, it seems the donators are mostly men and young girls ready for the change that extreme hair removal symbolizes. Older women tend to color or bleach their hair, which precludes a donation. Yours truly cut off and mailed away a long ponytail one Halloween; I remember a few folks thought I was wearing a costume wig, in a kind of ironic twist! Finn Harrington, a local 12-year-old, had grown his hair for years. He liked the way it felt, until it became an hour-long ordeal to comb out and take care of. Eventually, when he was 11, the time came for his braids to go. “It was an impressive amount of hair!’’ said Kate, his mom. They’d heard about hair donating and were excited to send his plaits away so another kid could benefit from them. Unfortunately, they were unaware of some of the protocols necessary to make a
