Rain fell around me in an even dribble. Not enough to be inconvenient, just enough to be annoying. I walked up the sidewalk to my office, the sudden outburst drumming droplets off my umbrella like it wanted to attract my attention.

Rain fell around me in an even dribble. Not enough to be inconvenient, just enough to be annoying. I walked up the sidewalk to my office, the sudden outburst drumming droplets off my umbrella like it wanted to attract my attention.

Eventually I realized it did.

This rain showed me the past 26 years had done more than just increase the size of my pants. The years have changed the very makeup of my psyche.

If 20-year-old me saw this 46-year-old me trudging through drizzle with a green polyester shield protecting my head from something as harmless as specks of water the size of the letter “o” in 12 point Times New Roman, I would enjoy poking fun at myself.

I was that kid who used to laugh at a man carrying an umbrella because any 20-year-old punk knows real men are never supposed to carry an umbrella for any reason other than they’re British. Even then it’s perfectly acceptable to point and sneer.

But as Now Me slapped shoes up and down the glistening concrete sidewalk, he had something to say to College Me – these were a whole lot of the letter “o” in 12 point Times New Roman. Someone could seriously drown in that much font.

So, I wondered in my dryness despite nature’s best efforts, what happened? What became of College Me, the guy who would walk to class in a downpour, my shoulder-length hair weighing as heavily as if I wore a raccoon on my head, my notebook damp despite the fact I’d stuck it under the front of my AC/DC concert T-shirt?

At some point in my life I can’t quite nail down, I just came to the conclusion that I simply didn’t like being wet.

This, to some, would be an epiphany. To me, it was one of the mysteries of nature.

There are many things that happen to people as they age, 30-pound College Me hair not excluded. Which leads me to evolution. The subject of hair always does that.

I cannot believe in the classical theory of evolution because what “natural selection” reason could there be for a human male to suddenly begin to sprout thick, bushy hair simultaneously from the middle of his ears and the tip of his nose, while removing it from the top of his head? I would think protecting a person’s cranium – the very center of his understanding of why it’s important to be dry and why pretty girls make the former completely impossible – would be much more important to nature than protecting a man’s face from his wife.

I’m not even going to get into eyebrows. Some old men’s eyebrows are so big they probably not only have their own ecosystems, they have their own cultures – some of which may have reached the Iron Age. And, when it rains, they all go swimming.

If evolution were worth its weight, we would grow umbrellas out the top of our heads instead of the whole hair thing. Pay attention, Nature, the smart people are talking.