Yesterday was international Redhead Day. I’ll bet you didn’t know we redheads have our own holiday, but we do. And it’s an important day.
Because countless redheads throughout history fought so that we, as a nation, could observe this holiday in freedom. Our ginger ancestors died protecting precious rights that many of us redheads enjoy today.
Such as the right to wear orange or burgundy; the right to be cast as the little orphan Annie in the school musical production of “Annie”; and the right to get free beer on Saint Patrick’s Day.
You probably know a redhead in your life. And speaking as a genetic minority, we ruddy complected persons could use your support right now.
Because redheads are disappearing.
That’s right. Modern research shows that the number of those carrying the recessive gene causing red hair are declining.
The percentage of redheads has dropped steeply within the last few years. At one time, the earth’s population of redheads was about 19 percent. Today it’s down to 2 percent. That’s barely enough to
form a jayvee basketball team.
We are diminishing in huge numbers each year. And each time we die, we take our genetics with us.
If this trend continues, by the year 2100 there will be approximately 3 redheads left including Willie Nelson.
I am a longtime redhead. My hair turned strawberry in my teens, but I was born with hair the color of Ronald McDonald.
I was also a jaundice baby, which means my skin was the color of sickly urine. My mother said I was also born with a pointy head. “You looked like a No. 2 pencil,” my mother recalls.
My mop of hair, however, was the main attraction in the delivery room. The first words of the nurse who delivered me were, “You know what they say about redheads and preachers…”
Unfortunately, nobody ever learned what they say about redheads and preachers because…