I'm having trouble sleeping, so here's a story about nothing really.

I’ve been cutting my own hair since the pandemic.

Placing a one-half inch guard on the clippers, and buzzing everything down.

Then the beard. With a three-eighths inch guard.

Then the eyebrows with a one eight inch guard.

Everything would come out mostly good. And it was a free haircut.

I’ve been getting out more lately, and decided to treat myself to a proper haircut several weeks ago.

Barbershops have changed. Oh man, things have changed.

I drove about five miles to my hometown after making an appointment with a barbershop that I found online. Not just the barbershops changed, but my hometown changed too. I drive through my hometown weekly, but I haven't walked it in years.

The few barbers I used to go to were staffed by old Italian barbers, who are long out of business, or passed on. When I was in my twenties, I used to go to a shop that had two older Italian barbers who would converse with each other while cutting my hair. They would speak Italian to each other, having the bawdiest of conversations. I'm not fluent in Italian, but I know some. So while getting my haircut, I would crack a smile because I could understand them. They didn’t know I could understand them though.

So that was the type of barber that I was used to. I used to love getting straight razor shaves by these old guys. I viewed it as a challenge of sorts, thinking “What if this fucker loses his mind and decides to kill me with this straight razor"?

So a few weeks ago, I found a barber in my hometown and booked an online appointment. The shop is on a main drag in my hometown, and there are never any parking spaces. So I parked in a lot behind the shop. This shop was a few blocks from the house I grew up in. I could normally walk from where I parked my car to the shop through another parking lot…about a 40 second walk. But much to my dismay, that "cut-through" lot was closed off for construction.

To avoid this, I had to walk through an alley that I practically lived in when I was a kid, and go around the block. I knew every inch of that alley, since it was behind a store that I worked in when I was young. This was only a few blocks from my house.

It was daytime, but I still walked that alley with much trepidation. Garbage everywhere. One dead cat. One live rat. I had to dodge the used hypodermic needles. A homeless person sitting against a crumbling masonry wall…"You got a few bucks to spare"? "No man, I just have a credit card, but if you want to wait about a half hour, I'll pick you up a sub at Subway”. His response was "nah forget it".

I got out of the alley and rounded the corner. Nothing looked the same. Everything was a crumbling mess.

Finally got to the barbershop. Culture shock. Felt like I walked into a casino. Four barbers. Loud music. Massive posters of sports figures. Bright lights. All of the barbers were young. Guys were getting funky designs shaved into their heads.

HEY BOSS! Are you LuckyCharms?

“Yeah”

HAVE A SEAT MY MAN!

What would you like? Fade? Taper?

“Huh”?

How do you want your haircut?

Uhh…

I’ll give you a nice taper...

“Uh…Ok"

You’re going to be fighting off the women by the time I’m done with you.

I laughed. “You think so, huh”?

How do you want your beard?

“About three-eighths of an inch, and a sharp line on the cheeks”

You got it boss.

So he cut my hair. He regaled me with stories about his childhood in New Jersey, and detailed his prison time for me. He told me where he lived. I said "Yeah, I know that exact house". I told him I grew up a half block away, and worked at several of the stores neighboring his shop. "I worked two doors down from you. It used to be a pharmacy. And next to that used to be a furniture store".

You’re shitting me?

No, I’m not shitting you.

He finished the haircut, and it was the best one I ever received.
In the crowded shop, my new barber crowed look at this guy! My man here is going to get laid tonight with this haircut! Check this guy out!

I deadpanned “You’ll have to buy me dinner first". Laughter ensued.

I paid him and left. I walked down the block to the house I grew up in. It is now a piece of shit. We had a storefront on the front of the house that my father built. I stood in front looking at the house. I paid particular attention to a small concrete ramp that I used to ride my bike up and pull wheelies. I stood there for about fifteen minutes.

The house was cut up now into several different apartments. A window opened and some guy stuck his head out the window and said “What the fuck you looking at? You looking for someone”?

“Reel your neck in chief. I grew up in this house."

He slammed the window shut.

I slow-walked back to my car, through the same alley. So many bittersweet memories. Pondering how the neighborhood got so bad.

But, at the same time, recalling my childhood.

Looks like I found a new barber. Can’t wait to go back.

The End.