Fed Up

I am fed up with hair stylists and salons. Every time I go into one of those places, I face the foul smell of chemicals and if that isn’t bad enough, I am always faced with the same problem. I want them cut my hair short and they act like they are afraid of going too short. When I come out of salon, I am relieved of that horrible smell has not followed me, but then I returned to the realization that I didn’t get the cut I wanted.

I sure wished barber schools would return to the original courses of study of years past. Today a person who wants to be a barber is put through all kinds of course work involving perms, dyes, etc. The men I know don’t want any part of that junk. They would like to go in and get an old-fashioned haircut.

Today was no different. You see in our small town, there are no barbershops. One either has to forgo a haircut or step in the world of horrors. I was determined that I would find a barber. I was about to say, before I needed a haircut again, but when I walked out and looked in the car mirror, I thought to myself, ‘I need a haircut.’ Right then and there, I was determined to find a REAL BARBERSHOP! I didn’t care how far I would have to travel, I would find a real barber.

The following morning I got up and got ready for the day and as I was shaving, I was thought, ‘Dam! I just got a haircut yesterday and it looks terrible. I just got to do something about this. As I ate breakfast, I kept thinking about my hair. It wasn’t so much about the hair itself, but the fact that there wasn’t a barber in town. I got so mad, that I decided to take a drive and forget about barbershops for a while. I knew if I dwelled on the subject I would get more upset.

Where would I go? I didn’t care. I had to do something to take my mind off those darn salon. Yes! I was mad. I decided to drive over a road that had been around here for as long as I can remember and even before my time. It is seldom used much any more. You know how it is, they put in a super highway and bypass the small towns and country roads.

Well! Anyway! I took off. I got on the old road and began to drive. I knew I would be lucky if I met one car the full length of it. I was surprised how well kept it was. I was driving along and enjoying the sights and sounds. I had completely forgotten my frustration with salons in town. As I drove along, I remembered the people who used to farm the land around here. They had passed on and their kids didn’t want anything to do with farming.

One particular farm I had in mind was right along the road up ahead. The house and barns had long since been neglected. I heard that due to safety, the buildings were torn down. I can remember the beautiful flowers in the yard, especially the Old Fashioned Lilacs and Peonies. I must not forget the daffodils. As I approached the farm, I was totally surprised to see that new home had been built on the foundation where the original house stood. A beautiful shed-like building had replaced the old barn. There was no indication of farming going on. There was a beautiful garden planted where the original garden had been. I slowed down to look and there before my eyes, was a small sign as I approached the edge of the property - BARBERSHOP! Beneath the sign was the word “OPEN!”

I found myself turning into the parking area that was provided and stopped. I looked again at the house. Fond memories of the place flooded back. I smiled as I stepped out of the car. I couldn’t believe my ears, total silence except for the songs of the birds. What a pleasure. Even the air smelled sweet. I started towards the house and then stopped and looked around. Just then a man stepped out onto the porch and said, “Welcome stranger. Come on up and sit a spell.” I walked up and introduced myself and he shook my hand and told me his name was Mort. He offered me a drink of fresh lemonade and I accepted. I hadn’t had real lemonade for a long, long time. It tasted real good.

Mort asked me what I was doing driving out on this lonely road. I told him I used to travel this road a lot before they put in that super highway. I told him that darn road ruined a way of life. I told him I was just out driving and hadn’t been on this road in several years. Not once did Mort mention anything about a haircut. As we were talking, I suddenly remembered the sign. I then related to Mort my disgust with the salons in town. He smiled, if you ever need a real barber, I will be here. I don’t go anywhere. I just putts around here in my garden. I like it out here. It is so peaceful and quiet. I asked Mort if there was much traffic on the road. He told me that he would see a dozen or so vehicles a day.

I had finished my lemonade and Mort wanted to know if I would like another glass. I told him thank you but no. I handed him my glass and out of the blue, I said, “Are you up to giving a haircut?” Mort smiled and said, “I can stop whatever I am doing if someone wants a haircut. Are you wanting one?” I smiled back at Mort and said, “You Bet.” I hadn’t noticed the little building setting off to the side of the lawn. It was a quaint building. I asked him what that building was. Mort motioned for me to follow. He took me to the building with all kinds of beautiful flowers about and opened the door. He said, “Come on in!” When I entered, I couldn ’t believe my eyes. There before me was an old fashioned barbershop.

I asked him if he brought this stuff with him when he moved here. He said, “No! I came here and built my home and the barn out back as well as this shop. I went out looking and picked up a piece here and a piece there until I had a complete barbershop. I told him it was a most welcomed sight. I couldn’t get over my luck. Mort asked me to have a seat and he put a cape around my neck. It wasn’t one of those Pink things that the salons used. If it wasn’t pink, it wasn’t a purple one, or a peach colored one. This cape was a traditional cape - white with a tiny blue stripe in it. As I looked around, I saw that Mort had thought of everything: a brush and a can of powder, some really he-man lotion, shaving mug and a brush, and the usual array of slippers and razors. I thought back to the salons and I only saw one pair of clippers hanging at each station and they seldom were used.

Mort said, “What will it be?” I looked him and smiled. I told him I wanted a short haircut. I said, “Something like a military haircut. I really liked the haircuts that the MARINES have.” Mort lit up like the sun was shining right down on him. I said, “Did I say something wrong?” Mort said, “No! I am a retired MARINE. You have come to the right place.” Of course once he said he was a retired MARINE, I saw hints of it around the room.

“Ok! Let’s get started. Just how short did you want me to go? I am not afraid of going short.” That was ‘music’ to my ears. At that moment, I realized I hadn’t thought about the length. I said, “Mort. I don’t care how short you go, just as long as it is short.” Mort said, “I may get carried away.” I told Mort he had my permission to get carried away if he so desired. I told him anything would be an improvement over this mess. As I sat there, I thought, ‘should I tell him that I was in the MARINES?’ I thought best to let him do his thing and concentrate on his work. I would mention it later.

As soon as Mort began to work, I could tell he was in the MARINES. He worked just like I remembered the barbers did when I was station in the states, a little rough, but gentle at the same time. I was in ‘hog heaven.’ Mort first ran a comb through my hair and then picked up the clippers and away he went. I heard him mumble under his breath, ‘this mess has go to go. ’ Right up the middle the back of my head he went, right up to the crown. That one stroke told me I had found a real barber. I had no idea how much he was taking off, but anything would be fine. When he finished the back, I could feel the cool air circulating around the room. Before long, he had finished up the right side and was working on the left. When finished the left side, he was about to work on the top when he said, “Dam! You are a MARINE too, aren’t you?” I was startled by his declaration. I said, “Sir! Yes Sir.”

Mort stopped for a minute and said, “Well! Now! That puts a new light on the subject. I can’t have you going out of here looking like some sissy. MARINES don’t do things like that. He picked up another set of clippers and began again. This time I could tell he was going really close. Soon the sides and back were finished. As he was about to tackle the top, I reached up and felt the sides. I had forgotten how a good haircut felt. Mort smiled and said, “Feels good doesn’t it?” I looked up at Mort and told him he was a master and for him to keep going as I was enjoying every minute of this cut.

Mort said, “Ok! Let’s get this top taken care of. I hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t changed clippers and in about 6 strokes, he had relieved me of the hair on top. He brushed off the top and then tilted me back and washed what little hair I had remaining. When he was finished, I was tilted back up and Mort began to spread warm lather he had prepared in the mug. I loved the smell of the soap. It reminded me of home growing up and the barbershop on base. Mort spread the lather around the sides and back. Just as he sat the mug down, I said, “Hey! Aren’t you going to do the top?” Mort whipped up more warm later, and said, “I wanted to do the top, but I thought maybe you might think it too extreme for civilian life.” I said, “Nix that civilian life crap, do it the MARINE WAY!”

I could tell what I said, made Mort very happy. Before long I was receiving my second shaving. It was like I had gone home again. When Mort finished, he turned me to the mirror and said, “How’s that?” I said, “Sir! Perfect Sir!” Mort laughed and I did also. I told him he did me a great favor. I asked Mort how much I owed him and he said, “For a fellow MARINE, there is no charge.” I told him I appreciated it. I handed him a 20 dollar bill and told him that was a tip for a job well done. I told him I would be back next week for another shave. I thanked Mort for the haircut and lemonade. I was a truly satisfied customer.

When I got home, I couldn’t wait to tell my friend Frank of the find. I told Frank not to tell anyone, it would be our little secret. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Frank as a brother, but he couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it and that was what I was counting on. The next day I saw Frank and he just about went wild. He said, “I’ll be dam. You really did find a no-nonsense barber. I will have to go to him today and have him fix me right up.

Of course I couldn’t resist. It was that ‘sadistic streak’ in me that made me say, “If you want to hear some good stories, tell Mort you were in the MARINES.” Frank told me that he would do just that. When I saw Frank the following day, he was sporting a really short buzz cut. The sides were shaved. In fact it was a H&T Buzz Cut. He looked great. Again I told him that Mort was our little secret. It wasn’t long before 90% of the men in our fair town were going to Mort. The only ones were those who didn’t have transportation. One of those was a good friend of mine, Sid. He liked my shiny dome. I asked him if he would want to go with me the next time I went and he said, most definitely. It wasn’t long before any of the non-drivers who wanted to have Mort take care of them, we found a way to get them there.

One day I drove out to see Mort and as I drove up, I noticed that the lawn hadn’t been cut and his garden was beginning to look like it hadn’t had any attention for some time. I knocked on the door and Mort came. I asked him if he was ok, and he said he had been away for about a week. It seems his best buddy had taken ill and died. He said it would take him some time to get things back in shape.

Mort cut my hair - actually shaved my head and I left. When I got home, I called a number of my friends and told them what happened and that I was going to go out the following day and help Mort out. I asked them if they would be interested, to spread the word. When I arrived the following morning, Mort was out beginning trimming around his yard. He was surprised to see me. He wanted to know if I wanted another shave and I told him not today.

I got my power mower out of my truck and fired it up. I told him I as going to help him get his place back to looking like someone lived there. He looked at me and I could detect a tear or two in his eyes. I had the lawn almost all cut when several other cars pulled up. Out came some more of Mort’s customers. They had come to assist also. Before long, we had about 20 men there and each was doing a specific job. By the days end, we had gotten all the grass cut. Yes, even the grass around the barn. About 10 men carefully worked in the garden, removing all weeds and had cultivated the soil. Now the place looked just like Mort had kept it.

As we left, Mort thanked us all. I told Mort that was the nice thing about our small community. We pitch in and help in any way we can when there is a need. I know we all felt great after helping Mort out. I know I did and always do when I can be of some help to someone in need.

Mort kept giving us super haircuts. Me? I kept the original cut Mort started me out with. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Mort told me that a number of the young men started to come out for a haircut and they also wanted to go short. I bet the number of young men will increase once they see how masculine the male looks with really short hair.

My discovery has changed the male population in our community for the better. Remember guys, if you want a real haircut, go to a real barber.