Letter from Brazil: My Cocaine

The headline is a misnomer. Sorry if I gave my daughter, Natalie, a heart attack. But if you say My Cocaine fast enough, you can either do an impression of the British actor Michael Caine or I push you in a direction of a part in the first Jason Borne movie where the sales associate from the yacht company comes out to greet Matt Damon.



To be honest, I am trying to make myself laugh after a rather disturbing incident here in Brazil. Maybe it wasn't so disturbing as humiliating. The thing about men and their hairline has been memorialized in the fables of old Rome - think Hercules.



My incident wasn't so dramatic, but it stung. Admittedly, I have lost my hair. There I said it. The issue came up this weekend when I was helping a buddy get ready for a dinner or something. He, Raphael, calmly asked me, "So when did you start loosing your hair?"



Until that day, I have never considered admitting it. It's not that I'm blind, but to evoke those words from my mouth - as loquacious as I am - has never ever happened.



In defense of my buddy, he was just curious. He has since tried to smooth things over by saying stuff like, "you have the head to be bald." I don't know how the hell that is suppose to make me feel better. But Rapha can't be punished for this candid question or remark.



It would be nice if my head had more hair. At one time, I sported an Afro that would make Link from the Mod Squad jealous. But like most things that have diminished with time, I don't get as excited about the small stuff.



Note: I have assembled a collection of my thoughts and experiences in Volume 1 of Letters from Brazil. They are available right now at Amazon.com - for cheap, cheap, cheap.