The Barbershop

As the local daughter for two elderly parents, it seems I'm always in the car taking them somewhere; doctor's appointments, foot care appointments, dental visits and the like. Yes, it's time consuming but most of the trips are important and they're always grateful for the transportation and companionship. Of all these outings, though, there is one that stands out as a personal favorite. Dad's regular trip to the barbershop in Magnolia Village every three weeks or so is 45 minutes well spent. I always enjoy the one-on-one with Dad and something about sitting on that old, long, and weathered fake leather bench in the barbershop, watching him get his hair cut calms my restless mind. Almost a hypnotic experience, I sit peacefully and watch the ladies (usually two, sometimes three) cut hair, trim beards, eyebrows, and other stray facial hair from men, young and old and occasionally a youngster. If I let myself, I get totally mesmerized.

Dad enjoys the outing too. We always seem to find a parking spot close by, he makes it up the four steps into the shop, gripping the metal rail for support. We usually have to wait a bit for an open chair and we joke about which chair will open up first (it can be tough to predict). The ladies work slowly and deliberately. They never rush and when it's Dad's turn he's in that chair at least 20 minutes (which seems like a long time when my hairdresser, in contrast, has my hair washed, cut and blown dry in less than 15 minutes and I'm outta there having paid a sizable chunk of change for the privilege). I love that Dad is fawned over, revered as an elder, and that there is no sense of rush rush. The other day, Ray Charles was the background music, turned down very low and muffled out by the sound of electric clippers and razors.

Sitting there in the barbershop with Dad pulls me into the present moment. I watch. I listen. I'm not thinking about much of anything except what's right before me. I'm glad that Dad wears his hair buzzed short and that it grows fast....I'm able to take him frequently and simply sit with an experience that consistently brings me joy. Funny what makes us happy.

He always pays with a twenty. He'll gets two five dollar bills in return and he turns around and gives one of the fives back to the lady who cut his hair and pockets the other. It's always the same. I like that. Predictable and simple.

Dad always looks younger and happier when we walk out of there. Maybe I do too.