The Barbershop

So, I’ve been on the hunt for a new, consistent hairstylist for the boys. Had a good run with a men’s grooming chain, but inevitably, we’d get used to one stylist and suddenly they’d be gone with no forwarding address.

The search led me to today’s place. And the whole experience struck me enough to journal about it. (Because I’m the sentimental type, see.)

We went old school. As in Barbershop. We received a referral to this one in Parker Square, specifically for Juan. I was told they don’t do appointments, so it made me a little nervous. But I ventured there on a week day morning, two boys in tow, and hoped for the best. So here’s the story:

A Barbershop Welcomes the Joneses

We walk in and the building itself is extremely ordinary. But the eclectic, vintage décor, complete with an old shoeshine stand, sweeps me straight into... another era? Nostalgia? Whatever it is, the effect is immediate. Each barber’s station has it’s own antique mirror and frame and it’s own vintage chair. An old switchboard is behind the counter (which has nothing to do with cutting hair, but it strangely adds to the ambiance). Old phones are dispersed along the walls, adding to the charm of the place… especially when one rings and I learn they’re all functional. In the back is a table set up for dominoes.

True to the rumor, there are no appointments. But fortunately for this boy mom, Juan is immediately available. So up hops Cutler into the chair. While I wait, I am able to observe the process. A gentleman walks in, “Hey Z. What’s the wait look like?” To which Z responds, “I got two in front of you, Joe.” And then Joe either moseys over to an antique wooden bench to sit, heads back to the game table, or says he’ll be back in twenty and to keep him on the list. And that’s how the flow goes.

Then Crew’s turn for the chair. Cutler and I are told we can grab drinks from the back. Cutler picks Sunkist Orange and we head back to our old bench.

As I steal glances at my son, with his freshly cut hair, legs swinging on the bench, sun shining through the widow, barber pole spinning, he swigs his orange soda and I think… this could be a boy from Mayberry or Bedford Falls or the Sandlot. And I drink in this perfect summer-morning moment of quintessential boyhood.

Juan expertly trims the boys’ hair. I do not have to hover or fuss. There are jars full of candy and the boys pick one piece each. I have had conversations with a couple of the waiting patrons. Time has slowed and I am enjoying myself.

We leave and an entire chorus of good-byes ring out.

“Have a nice weekend.”

“It was great to meet you.”

“You boys have a great summer.”

“Tell Cy we said hello.”

I walk out smiling. It has been an unexpected escape. I see for the first time the place’s name: Back-N-Time Barber. I smile even more.