One day when I was four or five, I needed a haircut. But I didn't want a haircut. Mom bribed me to the barbershop with the lure of the barber's lollipops, but when I stepped inside I saw to my horror that they were out of lollipops. So I ran outside bawling and wrapped my arms around a parking meter so they couldn't drag me inside.
A hippie walked by. He had long flowing hair, and wore the mandatory hippie tie-dye garb. He paused, looked at the kid in front of the barber shop crying and holding onto a parking meter for dear life, and commented, "let it grow, little brother, let it grow."
That, my friends, is "Tranquilo Pa."