A Close Shave...

Literally.

Those who follow my hair length carefully (and there are so many) know that I am not the type of guy that has a regularly scheduled haircut. I understand that there are those who do so with predictable regularity but that is just way too mainstream for me. It just takes way too much time and time is so valuable! It's much easier to get a haircut and then go as long as possible until the next shearing.

The current assignment came with little notice, I knew that I had a possible assignment a week ago Wednesday but it was still up in the air. Then Monday noon I got an email that stated I needed to be in Ft. Campbell that evening! Yikes! Pack 'em up, move 'em out rawhide.

So, here I am on a Saturday with nothing major to accomplish, thinking that it would be good to get my beard trimmed up a little to meet the big-wheels on base Monday. So off I go in search of a barber. Remember, I am a guy and would not be caught asking for directions. According to the gps the closest ProCuts is Nashville. That's out, bound to be a local place, the small town barber. I head down the main drag. It is THE main drag, there aren't really any other main roads in town. I cover about 10 miles, nothing. I turn around and head back the other way, nothing. I turn around again (at this point I'm kinda like cruising the strip). Then I spot it, the traditional red & white barber pole. Sweet. I go inside and it's a little confusing because there is a reception desk but nobody is there. Then a guy comes around the corner and waves me back into the next room. It is a typical, small town, African-American barber shop. (Sure, like I know what the typical one looks like.) Four chairs, two barbers giving two guys a haircut. Hmm, what we now have is a Texas white boy in a Tennessee African-American barber shop. Bet that doesn't happen every day.

My brain is rapidly sorting through the options: run, pretend I was looking for the TV repair shop, tell them I'm there to check their licenses, ask them where the traditional small town white guy barber shop is, or sit down and get a haircut. Since I don't have a broken TV with me I sit down. I notice that both guys getting a haircut have hair shorter than a burr. Seriously, compared to them my son Aaron would have long hair and he keeps it short enough for me to not be able to grab it. I'm studying the big poster on the wall showing all the different styles of haircuts that I might be able to get. I really like the one with the lines shaved in the sides of the head but I'm not sure I have the hair to pull it off. But if it makes me look thinner...

A new barber comes in, he looks somewhat surprised to see me. I'm not the customer he was expecting to start the day with. He walks around a little bit with no real purpose I think his brain is rapidly sorting through the options. Finally he puts his barber cape on and asks me what I need. I tell him that if he has a weed-eater handy I need to trim my beard up some. Ha laughs uproariously, (not), I sit in the chair, the two guys are still getting a haircut. I'm trying to figure out just what they are trimming as there is not really anything long enough to trim, I don't get it.

My guy starts on me, he is a trimming machine. The man has serious skills with a trimmer, it's going here, there, under, over, around, I have never had anyone take the amount of time that he took trimming my beard. When he pulled the cape off I asked him what I owed him. $5.00. It honestly seemed like too little for the amount of work he did so I gave him $10. One of the original two others getting a haircut is still in the chair, I'm still trying to figure just what he could possibly be trimming, is he working by the hour?

In the car I look in the rear-view mirror. Wow! I now have the most carefully carved beard that I have ever had in my life. There is a part of my upper lip showing that I haven't seem in over 30+ years, I have this thin line of a mustache on my lip with what feels like a four lane highway between it and my nose. I've never felt this before. I also notice that one side is trimmed shorter than the other, I briefly notice it and then go back to looking at the lip.

I'm not sure that I will go back to the "Fade to Glory" barber shop again. I'm not sure they would want me to come back. I did my best to find a barber, I was in need, I think that they did their best to fill my needs but I'm not sure that they were prepared for me as a customer. So it makes me wonder, just how do people feel when they leave our church service? They were looking for something, they had a need, they came to us. Did we shock them? Did they shock us? How different from us did they feel? Did we know what to do with them? Were we OK with the fact that they were different? Did they get what they were used to getting or was their lip showing way too much? Will they feel comfortable enough to come back?

I'm different as a result of the visit, still a little uncomfortable with the change but I'll get over it. In just a few days the mustache will be coming back in and soon the visual signs of that experience will be gone. That makes me wonder, how long do those who worship with us feel the effects? Will they be happy when it "grows back" or will they grow to like it.

I'm not sure.

So much for the close shave.

John