On Readheads

I’ve always been attracted to women with red hair. Throw in green eyes and a scattering of freckles and you will definitely have my attention. I don’t know why that is, but it may be due to my Celtic heritage. Not that all or even most Celts have red hair, but the mental image I hold is always of a strapping individual, male or female, with flaming red hair and green eyes, a large shiny sword complete with mystic runes inscribed on the hilt.

It’s easy for our minds to lump people together and define them as a whole based on looks. Skin type, hair color, facial features, help us categorize people at a glance, and often cause us to gloss over and dismiss people as not worthy of our attentions. So often we fail to know or appreciate someone because we didn’t take a moment to look beneath the surface.

But we’re all human, and while we may think otherwise, are more alike than we know. How many times have we been in a crowd and have our eyes automatically drawn to the gorgeous but not too bright blonde, the mysterious brunette, the tanned athletic man of adventure? See how easily those labels are applied, without any conscious effort on our part? Clothing, makeup, jewelry, other accoutrements aside, it doesn’t make much sense that what’s on the outside is a window to the inside.

Except redheads. I wonder if my association of flaming red hair, green eyes and a few freckles, with a fiery personality, might not be too far off the mark. Covers and books, personalities and looks, redheads and tempers. Books need covers, to capture our attention, to protect but still hint at that which lies within. Redheads, I believe, are given their physical traits as a warning to all who might approach. Caution! Extreme heat just beneath the surface! Proceed at your own risk!

And, like moths and flame, like Icarus and the sun, the irresistible attraction of red hair and a few freckles pulls me in, oblivious to possible injury but willing to accept the risk.