WHEN A BARBERSHOP WAS A BARBERSHOP
When the floor tiles were black and white. When Wild Root hair oil bottles lined the few shelves above each barber's station, not cordoned off but for all to see. When walls were pretty bare, displaying only a Barber College diploma.

When "Who's next?" was the call. You could pass and wait on your preferred cutter, but most didn't. One day when I was in the shop, a man offered a customer some money (I don't remember how much) if he could go before him since he was in a hurry. All I know is I thought the guy lucky to be paid for passing up a chance to get a haircut. Had it happened very much, I would have probably hung out there in hopes of making some easy cash.

I remember introducing my main barber to The Beatle haircut. I never did go all the way with mine--a modified Beatle with a part. My Senior picture looks pretty goofy with that style, but most high school pictures are looked back years later with fondness and laughter. My senior picture in college wasn't a whole lot better with lamb chop sideburns extending to my lower jawbone. But my hair was reasonably short for the time. I always thought if I didn't look too much like a hippie that the local draft board might not send me someplace I didn't want to go.

But the hair on the woman pictured. Wow! Talk about big hair! 'nuff said. Good picture.