Posting about Zach’s shearing caused me to think back to a period when I indulged in very regular haircuts. In 1966-67, I worked for a year between high school and university. In that year, I developed that habit of visiting Tony the Barber every second week — probably when I received my biweekly paycheck.
If memory serves, it cost me two bucks (or close enough) per clipping. I got out of that biweekly habit once I went to university and into teaching, but I still went in for regular trims because that’s what well-brought-up boys did. For awhile, as a young teacher, I tried to join the trend to longer hair in homage to the hippy/Beatles era. Alas, it didn’t work for me. I discovered that my hair wasn’t meant to be long when nothing I could do would prevent it from going into a girlish flip. Later, when it began to go the way of the dinosaurs, I discovered that my hair simply wasn’t meant to be —at all. Full stop.
When I checked my photo album for an image from those hideously happy haircutting days, this was the closest picture I could find to that time of my life, although I was likely a year or two younger in the photo. I know there are other pictures from then to be found here and there, but, since this one was at hand, I decided that it would suffice for now.
When I stopped visiting the barber, about eight year ago, it was costing a durn sight more than two bucks, let me tell ya; I think it was setting me back ~$15 per visit. I don’t know what they charge now. Whatever the price may be, it’s too much for a bald man, and they don’t give discounts to the almost-hairless!! I can never quite understand why bald me and the hairy dude (or duchess) in the next chair are required to submit the same amount of coin for our snippings. I mean to say, folks pay less for a small coffee than a large and so on and so forth.
Nowadays, Cuppa cuts my
locks strands, about once a month or so. It works for me — at least as much as anything at all can be said to work when it comes to my hairs (note intended use of the plural ;)).