Most of my childhood haircuts involved my mother taking me to a place called Bo Ricks (does that place even exist anymore?). It was your typical chop shop for cheap haircuts ($6, I remember - that was the big selling point), and a woman would always cut my hair. It was fine, it served its purpose, and my mom got another errand off of her checklist.
But there was a magic time when my dad took me to his barber - a guy named Franco. Franco's shop was in the same city as my dad's office, so I only got to go see Franco when I went I went to work with my dad on a weekday. I only recall going to Franco's once, and I don't remember the haircut he gave me, but I remembered the joy that I felt being in a place inhabited only by men with my dad - it was a right of passage.
The European Barber is an endangered species of man - but we as men should strive to preserve the profession in every way possible. The classic training of a Barber is different than a regular hairdresser - there is something authentic, traditional, and masculine about it. Where else, besides the battlefield, does a man place so much trust in another man when he places his heads in the hands of a man wielding a straight-razor? Men talk freely at a barber shop about male things; we celebrate each other's achievements, commiserate in our failures, build each other up, and swap life stories. The old encourage the young, the young admire the old; we can learn how to be better husbands, better fathers, better sons, better men.
In short: Dads need to find a local barber and make the time to take their sons to get their haircuts together.
I got the opportunity to take Mu to his second haircut this weekend and we went to Norm - A sweet, older, Christian gentleman who's been cutting since getting out of the service over 30 years ago. Norm owns a two-chair shop, but only uses one. He's tucked away in a small little store front and the interior is all wood paneled with 1940 radio dramas playing over the tinny speaker in the corner of the shop. Mu sat, swimming in the chair and hair bib, nervous and proud - a little two-year-old in a big guy's seat. Norm took his sheers to Mu's locks and gave him a perfect boy's haircut - close cropped on the sides and back while letting his floppy curls stay up top. Mu looked ecstatic the entire time. Sure his first haircut was at a kid's salon while sitting in a Lightning McQueen chair. But this time, he was with the guys, in a big guy's chair, getting his hair cut by a guy.
Right after his cut, I sat down in the chair and got mine cut; the Mu sat quietly and watched with great interest all the time, saying "Daddy Haircut." Norm and I talked about our families and shared the joys of fatherhood with each other. All the time, the Mu just watched.
I look forward to watching the Mu grow into Norm's Barber chair over the years and having great conversations in that shop with my little guy. Also hope that Norm is around long enough to give him his first straight-razor shave.
No comments:
Post a Comment