Small boy , big memories...

[Allisa]

There I was getting my hair styled and color touch-up when in comes a young woman with her son of about 3 or 4 maybe 5. Now the whole salon is full and bustling with activity and as the mother tries to put the child in the chair, with booster seat, all heck breaks lose and the tears start flowing along with the screaming. All eyes are now watching the show and laughing as the stylist artfully cuts and combs the boy between squirms and head jerks and tiny arm flares to fight off the attack. Now as this is going on I started to flash back to when I had to go to the barber's shop as a small boy, the red chair with the white porcelain arms and the booster seat that went across them, the smell of the blue comb cleaner, the feel of the paper collar around my neck, the buzz of the clippers, the Italian music playing, need less to say the barber was of Italian descent and a very small screen black&white T.V. up in the corner. Back then, late 50's early 60's my father always had me get a crew cut with that little patch of hair waxed straight up in the front. I hated it but dad always wins. That was when a small child could walk the streets without worry and I had to walk myself to the barber shop, kind of like walking the longest mile but with no preacher by your side. Soon the show was over and a red lolly-pop soothed the boys anguish and all was right in the world again. Funny how such a small event triggered such a vivid memory, I've been smiling for hours now, and yes I love my new cut and color.

[Tracii G]

Cute story.
It is funny how smells and sights can take us back in time.

[alwayshave]

Allisa, you are so correct that the littlest thing can bring you back to a moment you forgot long ago.

[suzanne]

Oh yes. The repressed memories are coming back now.

It was the early seventies. Hair was being grown longer everywhere and I wanted to do the same. My father didnt like it but held his tongue. For a while. Then one day, when I was about 12, he was like, "Come with me. You're getting a haircut." He always cut the hair of me and my two brothers himself with predictable results.

So into the shed we went. I cried as he went to work and he asked me, "What's your (effin) problem" Of course I couldn't tell the fascist, homophobic SOB that I wanted to look more feminine, so I just cried more. That's when he beat me up, then finished the haircut.

The good news was that Mom had a pretty good idea what had happened. As she told me many years later, when he came into the house she told him, "If you ever touch him again, I will kill you." A credible threat, as she had three brothers who didn't like him very much. I was never beaten again.

[Jaylyn]

The older I get the the more things that come to mind as I age. A lot of of what I call the good old days are from smells, sights and sounds. I definitely remember the barber shops, and mom cutting my hair as a kid. We had black chairs with chrome on them to set in. It's sometimes the smallest things that I have flash back to the my younger years.

[Laura912]

Lisa, the new avatar is lovely, too. Or at least I just noticed it.

[CONSUELO]

Oh yes I do remember being told it was time to visit the barber. I had to take a bus and then walk a short distance to "Sam's". You sat in a chair along the wall and when all the grown men had been taken care of Sam would call you up for your shearing. Afterwards my hair would always stick out at odd angles and the hair that had fallen down inside my shirt would itch and irritate until I could get home and change. I never went voluntarily. I always had to be told. What misery!

How I disliked the entire experience and that is why I never go anywhere near a male haircutter. When I see those barber poles I shudder and hurry on. I always go to a women's salon where the atmosphere is more congenial and the hair is cut with more care.

[Diane Smith]

I actually have great memories of going to the barber shop as a kid. From about the age of 5 to 14 (1962 - '71), every other Saturday, my grandfather, whom I adored, would take me downtown for a haircut for each of us. The place was a small but super-traditional barber shop with, I believe, four stations. Huge mirrors on the wall, big old adjustable chrome metal barber chairs, covered with red leather, with leather razor strops hanging down from the sides. The scent of clipper oil, Barbicide and cigarette smoke mixing in the air. A selection of comic books to read while sitting on the long leather-covered wooden benches waiting to be called up to the big chair. I wore my hair short-but-not-too-short, but really, the haircut itself was the least important part of the experience - it was being out with Grandpa, and soaking in all the sights, sounds and smells, that really mattered. We would always go shopping afterward for some toy, model kit or other trinket. Although my gender identity was already starting to veer off the normal track by the time I started grade school, my warm memories of those haircut days really have nothing to do with that aspect of my life. I miss the simplicity and love of those times.

- Diane

[Nikki A.]

I had pleasant memories as a youngster. My grandfather was the barber at the YMCA in NYC. So it meant a trip to the city, and after the haircut either a big fat burger made on a hot plate in the shop or a trip to the Automat across the street or some kind of adventure with him. I loved hanging with him although, truthfully, he was a pretty lousy barber. As I got older I went to and later was a junior counselor at a camp. Guess who they sent up once or twice a summer? Needless to say I did avoid his haircuts by then, luckily it was the late sixties.

[Beverley Sims]

When I was three I squirmed around and the barber cut a nick out of my ear.

Yep! the nick is still there, I can feel it. :-)

[Alice K]

No good memories of barber shops: stinky spittoons, rancid cigar smell and pummeled faces on the Ring Magazines. Maybe that caused an uptick in my dysphoria. 😉
I now get my hair cut in a woman’s salon, enjoy the owner and the smells are lovely.

[Olivia Lauren]

My haircuts as a young boy consisted of complete buzz cut not more than a quarter of an inch long. It always happened in the back yard just before the school year began. I had five other brothers and we would all come out with the same hair style. Almost all of my elementary school pictures showed me with extremely short hair.

(((((hugs))))), Olivia