Day 28 JP and the hair

In a dream, I was talking to JP in his lab.  There was some small talk and then he said, “So, are you ready?”
I said, “Yeah!” and I propped my leg up on the table.  I pulled my pant leg up and revealed a Very Hairy leg.  I mean, I am a hairy girl, but this leg … even I was impressed with the quantity and quality of the hair presented on my leg.  It was black and full, and glossy- like a well-fed and groomed gorilla’s leg.

JP said, “It looks great! Just go down the hall and turn left.  My lab tech is in a room on the right.  He will wax your legs.”

I said, “Okay,” then I started walking toward the lab tech/leg waxer.

In my dream at this point, the situation struck me as a little odd. 

First of all, in real life I’ve visited JP’s lab approximately never times, also I don’t have well-groomed gorilla leg hair in real life. 

In my dream, I rationalized the situation by telling myself, even though I didn’t really know why I was letting JP’s lab tech wax my legs, I’m sure it was of some benefit to JP and his research.  He was probably researching how to cure male pattern baldness, and something about my luxurious leg hair and follicles was going to lead him to a glorious insight about how to stimulate inactive scalp hair follicles and ‘cure’ baldness once and for all! 

Why would I think this?

JP was bald when I met him.  We were in our 20s.  It is unusual for a man in his 20s to be bald, but since he was already bald when I met him, I never thought it was unusual for him.  When I think about JP now- I don’t remember him by what he looked like.  I remember him by our interactions, and his attributes I noticed because of those interactions.

I think everyone would agree that JP was (and still is I’m sure) very smart. Back then he was studying biochemistry and working in a cancer research lab. I think fewer people knew that JP’s first language was not English.  Although he seemed to perceive in himself some deficiency in English, in fact, his pronunciation was American native-English-speaker and his spoken and literary vocabulary and fluency were by far better than most US-born university graduates. He came across as well read in not only science but also religion, philosophy, social theory and of course general world knowledge. (Which again is far better than can be said for most US-born university graduates.) 

JP was funny and curious, and most importantly- JP was kind, and I’m sure he still is.

I am an introvert and JP was an introvert; so, it seems odd to me that the first memories that came to me when I started thinking about JP were all at parties.

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JP and I are at a party.  We are sitting on the floor in a corner from which we can see both the front door and the center of the room.  We are talking to each other about the people we know and the people we don’t know.  We are making observations about what is happening and predicting what will happen next.  He says, “What do you think will happen if I go over there and . . .”  He proposes some outlandish course of action and sets in for that action before I answer.

JP was willing to watch, discuss and take action too.

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JP and I are at a (different) party.  I’m sitting on a sofa.  He’s sitting on a stool in the center of the room.  I watch as people he knows and people he doesn’t know walk up to him and chat, as though he is some sort of interactive display at a museum.  I notice one particularly long conversation with a girl we’ve just met.  As I walk by to get a drink, I hear a bit of their conversation.

JP says, “Oh really?  That’s interesting, can you tell me more about that?”

She says, “Yes, it means . . .” and she proceeds to expound in great, and somewhat inaccurate detail about a topic which I know full well he knows more about than most people in the room, including the new girl.

When I walk past again, I catch his eye. There’s a sparkle there; he is really enjoying this conversation.

When they are finished, I go back to his ‘interactive display’ and say, “Why did you ask her to explain more about a topic you know more about than she does?”

He says, “I wanted to know what she knew.  I wanted to know her perspective.  I knew it would be different from mine.”

I say, “Did you learn something?”

“Oh yes,” he replies, “I learned so much.”

“I don’t suppose you told her you have taken several classes on that subject?” I ask.

“No,” he says, “no need for that.”

JP made it a point to have time to listen to other people, even when he knew what they were probably going to say.

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JP and I are at Mardi Gras in New Orleans. We are standing shoulder to shoulder in the French Quarter with thousands of drunk people.  Our feet are planted on the pavement, but the crowd is undulating like a flag in the wind.  I look at him wondering to myself “What are we doing here?”  He looks at me like he knows what I’m thinking but doesn’t know the answer.

JP pretty much always up for an adventure.

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‘Crazy Betty,’ my roommate is hysterical when I walk in the apartment.  She says, “I think a terrorist called us!” 

It’s late in 2001 and she’s already told me she thinks I might work for the CIA. I denied it of course, but isn’t that exactly what a CIA agent would do?  I calmly ask, “Oh? Why do you think that?” 

She says, “Listen to this phone message!”  She hits play.  It’s JP ranting something in Arabic, laughing manically and hanging up.

I cover my mouth the hide the smile. I cough.  “It was probably just a wrong number,” I say.

She looks skeptical.

JP was a cheeky monkey.

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I’m standing next to JP at a party.  Someone walks up and introduces herself.  She says, “Hi my name is  …”

He says, “Hi, this is Shannon, and my name is K…”

She says, “K…” rolling the name she’s never encountered before around her tongue.

I just look at him.

The girl walks away.  I say, “Why did you tell her your name is “K…?”

He says, “Because, that’s my name.”

I say, “Then why have I been calling you JP all this time?”

He says, “That was my nickname, but I think I’ll go by my name now.”

“Did you just decide that right now?” I’m somewhat incredulous about this name revelation.

“Yeah,” he says, and walks off.

JP was unexpected on a regular basis.

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In my dream, I walked into the room where the lab tech had his back to me.  He didn’t notice me, and suddenly I got the feeling that the whole situation was really weird.  Why was I getting my furry leg waxed by a lab tech?  I walked out of the room before he noticed me.

When I got back into the hall JP was walking towards me.  He said, “What’s going on?” 

I was embarrassed.  I wanted to help him, but it was all so strange. 

I said, “Oh, I wasn’t sure if this was the right room.” 

He said, “Yes, come on, I’ll introduce you!”

We went into the room and while he was introducing me to the lab tech his boss walked into the room.  His boss was praising him and telling him how happy he was about this hair research.

I thought again this must have something to do with male pattern baldness, but when I looked at the three men in the room, they all had beautifully full heads of hair. 

Then I thought, ‘I was wrong to suppose this was about selfish ambition or personal benefit,’

and I also thought, ‘has he always had that hair?’

and I also thought, ‘that’s really nice hair.’

The ‘procedure’ was accomplished as planned, and I gave my goodbyes to the tech.  On my way out I passed a lecture hall.  The boss-guy was presenting a case study. I stopped by the door and heard him talking about a terrible disease.  Hundreds of people had already died, and many more would die if they could not find a cure.  The only thing that all the victims had in common was unexplained hair loss.  He was very excited to announce that he and his staff were currently conducting research using healthy (glossy, furry-monkey-leg-hair) donated fresh hair follicles to crack the case.

And so- I learned, do not assume you know the whole story. You will rarely know the whole story- unless it is your story. 

It’s okay to ask. 

It’s also okay for the answer to be, ‘I’m not ready to share right now.’

It’s okay to get your monkey-leg-hair waxed by a lab tech in the name of research.