The
Importance of the Barber Shop
One of the things a fella has got to do is get his dome
scraped. After all ya can’t go around looking like a
schlub, or expect to make time with the ladies if you look
like a hippie. Anyhow, a man can’t truly be a man unless he
makes the odd trip down to the local barber shop a couple
of times a month. For as long as I can remember I have been
getting my hair cut, not styled, by Gus. Gus is a fat,
greasy, loud-mouthed animal with a vocabulary that would
make a sailor blush, and an ever present unlit cigar
dangling from his gape, but he is my pal.
Sure old Gus is a cave man but he is one of a dying breed
in the good old U.S. of A. He might be a poor
representative for the human race, but he is one damn fine
barber. No matter how long it has been since I have been in
his chair, he always picks up the conversation right where
we left off, and he is an expert on all things men love
like baseball, broads, cars, politics, etcetera. Ya get the
point. He’s a man’s man.
It is not just old Gus that has been bringing me back, nor
his shining demeanor. It is the place. It is the rite and
the ritual that any man or boy should be experiencing in
the country, and it is a rapidly dying to boot. Its all
about being around other chumps who are there for the same
reason you are. Sure, part of it is so you can look good
and charm all the betties down at the old gin mill, but
mostly it is about being a man. A good barber should be
part marriage counselor, part buddy, part head shrinker,
and know how to shut up and let a guy get a few things off
his chest.
And it ain’t just good for us adults to visit old Gus, we
need to bring the ankle biters along once in a while so
they can get a feel for the whole experience. Good old Gus
always has a lollipop in his pocket when the little ones
come in, and he always knows how to calm them down in the
chair when the time comes for them to get their domes
scraped. After all, we don’t want our boys running around
acting like fairies do we.
In my day we saluted the stars and stripes. We held the
door for ladies. We said words like please, thank you, and
excuse me. We acted like men and taught our sons to do the
same. We went to the barber shop and got our hair cut. Its
just the way is ought to be. Thanks boys.