Red hair is a mark of distinction not for the faint of heart. Believe you me, red hair can be an endurance test from the word go. You stick out like a sore thumb at school and will inevitably be nicknamed Red (or much worse these days), even if you like your real name. On the other hand, teachers and assorted persons of authority seem to notice “the redhead” in case you wanted to be noticed but it’s usually to get blamed for something you didn’t do. One young redhead I knew struggled to apply black shoe polish in a failed attempt to disguise himself. I remember when I was 17 and my new friend from Germany confided that Europeans considered all people
Red hair is a flaming mark that—alas—may not last a lifetime. Consumed by its own brilliance, one might say. One day a disrespectful friend bellowed to get my attention: “Hey, blondie!” (surely that wasn’t me he called). But time has a way of eclipsing great things. That is why red hair is special. It’s a lottery if and when it will turn up or how long it will last. Parents, if you like what you have wrought, you see what you are up against. Know your genetic genealogy. Cross-examine anyone whom your redheads plan to marry. Better still, send the kids to www.redhedd.com to perpetuate the species. Long live small kiddies with red mops.