Considering what was at stake, and my history of hair as a symbol of rebellion, taking a buzz came rather simply, quickly.

The road to a buzz probably started with Bruce Willis. His hair thinned almost the moment he met Cybil Shepherd. A few years later it was a buzz, then a shave. Yet Bruce looked great and even expanded his masculine, child-like, comical roles.

A few years ago one of my kids asked me when I planned to go to a buzz. I didn't. I still had a thick and healthy head of hair from temples to tail-- except on top where my comb and brush left skid marks.

I did it anyway.

I needed professional advice and all it took was one visit to Diane, my personal stylist at SuperCuts, and the deed was done. Ron had a buzz. My only two regrets are-- why did I have to do it in the first place, and why didn't I do it years ago?

As to the former, some of us keep our hair longer and thicker than others. My day was done. As to the latter, perhaps it was a vestige of the mop top in the Beatles era that kept me from giving up the ghost, but once it was gone...

I should have taken a buzz a decade earlier.

Ultra short hair on a man is the only way to go. No more comb. More brush. No more worries about the wind. No part that's hard to find. No gels, no coloring, no shaving, no waxing, flaxing, or curling. Gone is hat hair. Gone is motorcycle helmet hair.

It's just me, my head, and a buzz and it feels great. I use less shampoo. A towel dry isn't much more than one rub front to back and back again. Done.

Having a buzz is so easy that it must be the way God intended. My wife likes it. I like it. The neighborhood dogs like (they don't run away any more). I save on haircuts, visiting poor Diane, my personal SuperCuts stylist, once ever two or three months, instead of once a month.

Both Diane and my wife tell me I have a good head for a buzz, though both have a vested interest in tossing me the bone of compliment.

The buzz is good. Long live the buzz.

Did I mention that I shaved my 30-year-old mustache?