The other day, my sister Nanette reminded how much my younger self bore some (let me editorialize fleeting) resemblance to singer John Denver. During high school chorus trips 40 years ago (or so), somewhere, somewhen, some girl would ask: “Has anyone ever told you that you look like John Denver?” Eh, no. You’re the first one. Wink. Wink.

John kept his lovely blonde bush until his death. Mine had receeded by age 30. But there was still some folicle-life left in this portrait of me standing before the Grand Canyon. I’m guessing age 25. I don’t recall the photographer.

To Nan, thanks for the reminder and sweet sentiment. I can imagine your Saturday house cleaning, kids around you, and John Denver music punctuating the moment. Now I know why. 🙂

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