The older you get, the more read the obituaries-and the more names you recognize. Friday night, in "Services Pending" I saw that my barber of 40 yrs. had passed away. He had retired about 2 yrs ago, due to a serious health issue, that was to be terminal w/in 2-3 yrs.
The first time he ever cut my hair was easy to remember, as John F. Kennedy was shot that day. I was in elementary school, my Mom did not drive, and a barber shop had opened in the neighborhood that I could walk to. He was a nice guy who always had a drawer of Dum-Dum suckers that you got to pick from when you were done. When I reached that age where I didn't know if I should take one or not, he just said "There was no age when you had to quit".
He cut my hair through school, college, and beyond until he could not cut hair anymore. He probably heard more confessions than any priest or bartender ever did. He was the best listener I ever met, never passing judgement-but sometimes having a gentle comment that left you thinking. Good barber? Not really. Good human being? The best.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment