Lowering the ears....

When my brothers were little boys, every so often my dad would say “It’s time to get your ears lowered” and he would round them up and sit them down on an old high stool and get out his barbers’ clippers. He’d go buzzing over their heads and a few minutes later they would have a “crew cut” mostly extremely short except for a fringe in front that stuck up in the air and was maintained with goop called "butch wax" that came out of jar.

I guess I am fortunate that my mother was in charge of cutting my hair rather than my dad, except occasionally the results weren't so good. Once, when I was in 4th or 5th grade, I recall a fateful day when she got a little carried away with my bangs just before the school pictures were to be taken. At the time I remember being mortified that they were so short, and forever and ever I am frozen in time with a fringe of 1-inch bangs across my large forehead.

I began cutting our son’s hair when he was a little kid – with scissors. He had a cloud of soft curly blond hair and cutting that off was a hard thing to do. When we moved here I began cutting Richard’s hair as well. After our boy left home, he went through a stage where he liked the “shaved head” look, for some reason, and he bought himself a pair of clippers. I did not think the look suited him very well at all – I thought he looked sort of scary – like a neo-Nazi. Fortunately, he moved on through that stage...



and he let his hair grow again...


and now that he has been moved back home....


I am once again pressed into service as a barber.