@Dave and Deb: I don’t think I’m daring and courageous enough to have Audrey take to my head with clippers. Good on you for making the haircut a family affair.

@jen: I’m a fan of the under-appreciated…and that includes barber shops.

@Don: Thanks for the thoughtful memory. “Sideburns?” Always a crucial question. And I remember those elevator boards. The powder (the stuff in the green metal can), and the blue antiseptic juice for the combs, too.

Barney and Andy were its proprietors. Brothers Italiano or perhaps Siciliano, they clipped, snipped and shaved their way to perfection. Oversized mirrors graced the walls of the shop. Worn linoleum covered the floors. Mismatched chrome and wooden chairs and a lone, well worn leather couch made their way around the perimeter. Chatter filled the air.

Equipped with a not so good but passing report card and a religious holy card for this achievement, the barbershop was my first stop on the last day of school. I ordered a “porky” in preparation for the long summer
vacation. This style, requiring that only about a half inch of hair remain, needed only the electric clipper. Fast and efficient, I was ready to go in about five minutes.

The introduction to the barbering process began years earlier. Too small to reach a satisfactory height, I was placed on a well worn, shiny board that straddled the arms of the overstuffed barber chair. Next came the
covering sheet. With a few pumps on the long handle that brought the hydraulic chair to the desired height, we were ready to go. All of this was happening under the watchful eye of my reassuring father. At the conclusion the sheet was removed, a large powdered brush dusted the back of the neck, a few drops of hair oil were applied and the finish produced a slick, combed look. Wow!

Several years later a right of passage began with a removal of the board. Subsequently when the barber asked my father – sideburns, George? – and he nodded affirmatively, I felt that first step away from childhood. Sideburns, those sculpted spots around the ear required shaving and the use of after shave; refreshing but burny. Yikes. What then seemed like nothing more than the removal of a few locks obviously left profound impressions. From dusty statues to some of the fondest childhood memories in an instant.

Thanks, Barney and Andy.

The “Unisex” sign is simply failed marketing and brand extension. Many shops in Central America have slapped “unisex” on their signs in order to expand business.

I urged Audrey to get her hair cut as well, but it didn’t work. These places are still all guys.