I’ve talked on this blog before about going to the barber, in #204: “The Haircut.” But today I’m going to discuss some of the previous barbers I’ve gone to, and the impressions they’ve left on me.
When I was young, I used to go to a barber whose name I can’t quite remember right now. But I can recall his face, the shop, and everything in it. He had a tootsie pop dispenser that I always asked my mom about, and he loved Betty Boop. Betty Boop with a coca cola, Betty Boop with a tootsie pop in her mouth, Betty Boop on a motorcycle. No matter what type of situation you can imagine, she was in it. This barber used to call me rubber neck because I kept moving around during the haircut. I have a hard time keeping my head still in one place without it moving to and fro, usually because I like to relax my head during periods of time where I’m not doing anything except sitting. He also used to call me gorilla neck because the hair around my neck grew in quickly. It’s still like that to this day, and I can recall his manner of speaking and voice so perfectly in my head.
Then there’s George, or Augie. When I still lived in Northford, I visited him frequently. I sometimes would bump into old students when I went there. George was a one-of-a-kind guy, and he always struck up a friendly conversation with me when I went there. He took his time and really accentuated my look, asking questions along the way about what type of haircut I wanted and how school was going so far. When I told him I was moving to Stamford, he asked if I was still going to come to him, but unfortunately I had to decline. Stamford to North Haven is a long drive, and I can’t make that regularly enough to get a haircut there.