Our Trips To Mike's Barber Shop

Every three weeks or so, throughout my childhood, my dad would load my brother and I in the car on Saturday mornings and we would go to Mike’s barber shop for haircuts.

“Mike the barber” was a gregarious man and he would hold forth on all kinds of subjects with great volume and humor to the interest and amusement of the men in the shop.  He was a character.

On several occasions, when Mike was cutting my brother Cam’s hair, he would tell all the men in the shop, “I gave this kid his first haircut.  He had the biggest head I’ve ever seen!  It was so big he couldn’t even hold it up.  I had to hold his head up with one hand while he was sitting in the chair, here, and cut his hair with my free hand!”

Then Mike and all the men would laugh uproariously.  (I know, it’s not that hilarious but Mike had a great way with the delivery of his stories.)

You’re probably thinking, “Gee, that’s terrible.  Your poor brother must have hated that.”

He did.

You’re also probably thinking, “I bet you felt bad for your brother, huh, Dan?”

I did.  However, as the younger brother, I have to admit that I was also extremely relieved that Mike was focusing his attention on Cam and not telling any stories about me.

Unfortunately, younger brothers aren’t much help in these kinds of situations.

…Oh, and the haircuts really weren’t all that flattering either.