Published Oct. 15, 2006 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
By Aaron J. Brown
Red chairs. Black
chairs.
Scissors. Clippers. Hair product. No hair product. Conversation.
Silence. When
it comes to getting my hair cut I’ve seen it all, but never twice. I’m
a haircut
drifter. A haircut bachelor. As the kids would say, a haircut playa.’
Everyone who has
hair has to
get haircuts. Even Johnny Damon. Even balding people have to get trims.
We’re
mammals. That means three things: live birth, milk and hair.
Some say mammals
aren’t built
for monogamy. Well, for live birth and milk, I’m a family man. I’m
settled. I
don’t crave drama and I can’t afford extra jewelry. But when it comes
to hair,
and haircuts … baby, I’m a rambling man.
I get about three
or four
haircuts a year, which means I’ve had more than a hundred. With few
exceptions,
I’ve never seen the same hair stylist and/or barber twice. Sure, some
of then
have been nice … and many have been consummate professionals. Some
offered free
trims if it didn’t grow in right. But I don’t come back. I keep on
ramblin.’
My memories hold
many a
smocked hair stylist and a smattering of “old school” barbers, too.
There was
the short haired gal who knew by looking at me that I needed a “three”
for the
clippers. There was the ex-steelworker who believed in using scissors
exclusively. There was the lady who thought my name was Eric and I was
too lazy
to correct her. The list goes on and on.
The first person to
cut my
hair was my grandma. We have pictures of the big event, but I don’t
recall who
cut my hair second. My mom cut my hair once or twice, but only in a
pinch. For
a short time, my wife Christina cut my hair using a kit we bought in
town. We
did that for about a year – my longest haircut relationship – but then
she gave
me a bald spot and we both decided that it’d be better if I went out to
play
the field. (For haircuts, that is).
Christina is a
haircut
monogamist. She’s had her hair cut by the same person since she was a
little
girl. She told me that when she had to get her hair done in the Twin
Cities
during college she felt like she was cheating on her hair stylist.
Since then
she’s worked out a way to have her hair cut back home by her “steady.”
Baby, that’s just
not me.
Going to the same hair person twice means you’ve got to talk about more
than
the weather. It means you’ve got to remember if they have kids or
diseases. It
means they’ll remind me every three to four months that I’m still
talking about
writing a book but not finished yet and that I’m still plugging away at
the
same job. Heck, I can get that every day when I look in the mirror. I
don’t
need the extra pressure.
Regular monogamy,
OK, but
haircut monogamy too? That’s just too much. Plus, it means that if I
need a
haircut one day and my hair person is busy, I might be tempted to go to
someone
else. Then, if I do, I could get caught in hairdultury. That’s not
mentioned in
the Bible, but it’s probably covered in cosmetology school. That’s why
I live
light on the land. The Marshall Tucker Band once surmised that one
should never
stay with a woman long enough for one’s boots to get old. For me, and
hair
stylists, it’s like that, except I suppose more like the shelf life of
processed bacon. (I tried to think of a hair metaphor but, oddly, most
hair
care supplies last longer than boots).
So if you’re a hair
stylist
and thought I might have been a good prospect for a long term customer,
sorry.
It’s not personal. And if you see me wandering into your salon with
shaggy
hair, do your best but don’t get attached. I gotta keep a ramblin.’
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.