Back, back, when The Last Face You Will Ever See sat at the feet of his grandfather and listened to the deeds of Our People and our ancestors, long ago, before water and shaving cream were invented (or scissors, for that matter), my grandfather used to say that there was the Moonhippie.
My grandfather said that the Moonhippie was the Chief of his tribe because they all admired his hair so, and were sick with jealousy -- and that was when the pale-faced ones came in the massive boats and sold us things like firewater and shaving cream. Many of the brave young men wanted to show how tough they were; they shaved, they cut their hair, and they got respectable jobs.
But not the Moonhippie, the Elder of their Clan and their Chief. He was respected for his wisdom and needed none of the airs and trappings of the new ways; no, the old ways were good enough for him. So his hair STAYED, dammit, and that was that.
Many admired his strength of conviction. Others hated his tenacious grip on the old ways. Some wondered what brand of conditioner he used. But all who looked upon him knew him, and all knew he was their Chief.
From the Four Directions to the Four Seasons, the hair of the Moonhippie was legendary; from the four elements to the four Great Spirits, the Moonhippie's wisdom and reputation was known; from the Four Corners to the... uh, Other Four Corners, the name of Moonhippie has been synonymous with respect and merit.
Grandfather said that the Moonhippie was still said to roam the lonely mountains of Our People, and that the ancestors had reserved a special place for him in the Great House in the sky... but that the Moonhippie had chosen to stay behind and roam the Earth with the young braves and the young women.
Sometimes, I think back on those days and listen to the winds, and, listen I carefully enough, the gentle breeze whispers the words: "No! I AIN'T gonnah cut my hair!" At those times, I wonder if the legends are true and if, indeed, the Moonhippie may still walk among us...