Dad and the Admiral's Hair

My dad was an officer in the Navy, but never went on a ship.  He was a civil engineer, a Seabee, one of those straightforward types.  Lots of pens in his pocket and knew how to use a slide rule.  Study hard, do what’s right, and get ahead, he told us kids.  Work hard and get the job done.  He took things seriously and we did not dare get out of line.

Engineers might be accused of being utilitarian and non-flamboyant, but the Admiral who was due to visit sure wasn’t.  He cut a dashing figure, Admiral Lord Nelson of the British Navy couldn’t be handsomer. 

Dad hoped their unit would put on a good show for the inspection.  Admiral Umbidott was supposed to give a speech as well, and Dad hustled to make sure that the microphone was working, the chairs would not collapse, the podium wouldn’t tip over, and the stairs to the platform adhered to every safety precaution.  The office and unit were spick and span.  Every Seabee was on his best behavior and in perfect uniform.

When the inspection came, Dad walked behind the Admiral, Captains and various officers and no doubt giving the men stern looks.  Occasionally the Admiral would stop in front of a sailor and ask him something.  Eventually the officers went up the steps to the platform (which did not collapse), and Dad said a few words of introduction for the Admiral.

Admiral Umbidott has a magnificent head of hair.  Even I, sitting in row three, knew that he must put a little Grecian Formula in it.  Black, wavy and full.  He certainly spent time tanning and working out.  Admiral stripes went halfway up his forearm, and he had ribbons up to his shoulder and, as far as anyone could tell, over onto his back.  Whew.

The Admiral stood up to give his speech, waiting just behind Dad as Dad finished his introduction.  Dad gestured toward him, and oh horrors, accidentally knocked off the Admiral’s hat.  Even that wouldn’t have been so bad, except that his toupee went flying too.

There stood Admiral Umbidott with his very untanned bald head.  It positively gleamed. 

Dad looked apoplectic.

The Admiral, not missing a beat, stepped to the podium began his speech. 

At that point, a Lieutenant decided to be helpful.  He jumped up, snatched the toupee and made for the Admiral. 

Dad was not about to let the Lieutenant fumble it back on.  Upstage of the Admiral, Dad grabbed at the Lieutenant’s arm, but missed.  A LtCdr saw the missed attempt and stuck out his foot, tripping the Lieutenant.  The toupee flew out of the Lieutenant’s hand, the Admiral turned to see the commotion, and the toupee hit the Admiral in the chest, snagging on his medals.  It hung there for a few minutes while the Admiral pondered it.  The sprawled Lt sheepishly got to his feet.

“Thank you,” said the Admiral.  Standing full height, chest bedecked with ribbons and his fouled toupee, he carefully extracted it, put it back on.

“I tell you,” said the Admiral, “I tried using hair restorer.  I rubbed it in twice a day but now I have to shave my hands.”

The sailors busted up.

“Some people assume I’m bald.  I am nothing of the kind.  It is just a very large center part.”

The audience laughed too.

“I once had to pay $25 for a haircut. $24 of it was for a search fee.”

Everyone roared with laughter and clapped. 

The Admiral gave his speech then, and it was a pretty good one too.  Afterward he said, “Most fun I’ve had in a long time.  You engineers are a riot.”

“Aren’t we just?” said Dad, embarrassed. 

The Admiral, worthy of all his medals, kissed my mom on the cheek and shook my dad’s hand.