True Story: I grew up in the 1960`s, so I`d certainly had my share of short haircuts. Crew-cuts as a toddler and then the basic tapered-back with short bangs in front style from first to third grades. Then my hair got longer--as did everyone else`s as it was the 70`s by now. The only person it really seemed to bother was my Aunt Pearl. She still lived on the farm and believed in the traditional farmer haircuts that she gave her sons before they married and moved off the farm. The `farmer haircut` was a `Butch` in summer (completely buzzed down to 1/8 inch all over) and a `Hynie` the rest of the year, which was basically a Butch with just enough length on top to comb down into bangs (which Aunt Pearl clipped very short and straight). Aunt Pearl still gave this `farmer haircut` to the boys in the small town near her farm. It was still the tradition there and I noticed on my two or three visits to the farm for Christmas or Thanksgiving that my long hair stopped the locals in their tracks--with horrified expressions on their faces. Aunt Pearl would constantly give me grief about my long hair, saying `you look like a girl` or `my daughter left some dresses in the closet--why don`t you put one on?` or `If I was your parents, I`d buzz that hair off so fast...` June 1978: My dad finds out he has to spend the next six months in Germany. Mom needed to go along, too, so what would become of me? You guessed it. I was too young at 16 to stay alone and the only alternative--as my parents saw it--was for me to stay with Aunt Pearl. As we drove to Aunt Pearl`s, I was comforted by the thought that I was not her child and she was simply looking after me the six months my parents would be overseas. Surely, she would have no thought of cutting my hair.