Today, I intend to go into Greeneville and get a haircut. I don’t like the sensation of shaggy hair curling into my ears. I used to say that I couldn’t sit at a microscope with hair falling into my eyes. However, there’s no microscope on my desk now, and there’s not much hair to fall into my eyes these days.
I spent about 40 minutes in an old-fashioned barbershop, waiting for my turn. I don’t mind the wait if there are no unruly kids. There was none today.
As a teen, I was taken or sent to the barber at least every other week. As the hairstyles for men changed, I went from crew cut or flattop to longer floppy hair. There was a brief period during which we all used some sort of oily/greasy ointment to slick our hair back. Brylcreme was a popular brand, as was the even oilier and earlier, “Wild Root Crème Oil,” proudly pimped by Al Capp’s Fearless Fosdick.” Butch wax kept flat tops in place and left a trail of grease on everything one touched.
In the Army, weekly haircuts were required in garrison. In the field, it was possible to delay a bit longer.
I really dislike paying very much for haircuts. I’ve less and less hair and manage to wait about 2-3 months between haircuts now. When I was heavily involved as an adult scout leader, I often reverted to crew cuts in order to avoid much messing with my hair. I don’t like gels, ointments, greases, etc. I have no patience for the blow-dry and other rituals. I nearly told the barber to give me a crew cut this afternoon. But Gloria has previously said she prefers other hairstyles. She spends more time looking at my hair than I do, so I made no changes today.
When I walked in, she announced that she thought I should get my hair cut short. Next time, I guess I will.
No significant news or opinions to relay today.
Shabbat Shalom!
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