Robbin Bruce: It seems like a waste of time, but I still got to do it

  • Friday, February 28, 2014

About every month or so thereís something I have to do, that to be honest, I really hate to do. I donít know why, Iíve been doing it all my life, and itís not really all that big of a deal, but as I get older, it just seems to be a waste of time. But if I donít Mel starts giving weird looks, and if Iím lucky, I can get Kt to do it for me. With me, to be honest, it only takes about five minutes from start to finish, and in the run of a month, thatís not much. But still, for some reason it just goes against the grain, because I just hate getting a haircut.

Maybe itís because, well to be honest, if you looked at my head, it kinda reminds you of a dinosaur egg sitting on a hen nest, nothing on top, and whatís left, is piled around the sides. I know that drives some men crazy being handicapped on the hair side, but it has never fazed me. I never knew my Dad when he wasnít grey headed or shiny on top, so I knew it was coming, so I just never let it get to me. But cutting whatís left thatís hanging on for dear life, just seems kinda cruel.

In a sense I guess Iíve come full circle. Back when we were little, most of us had flat tops. Maybe not an official one like you see in the movies from the early sixties, Momma use to take Vitalis and would make your bangs stick up, and pretty much the rest of your hair was cut short enough so even if you didnít comb it, youíd never notice it. That was the style back then. I remember when we would be home; Dad would take me to Mr. Taftís on Main Street, he would put that board across the arms of the chair and lift me up on it. First he would use the clippers and pretty well trim the back short, then trim the bangs, then put some stuff on them to make them stand straight up. Then he would put some warm shaving cream on the back of my neck, just like grownups use, and then shave the back of my neck. Then top it of with that sweet smelling talcum powder, you would smell the talcum the rest of the day.

But the late sixties and seventies rolled in and changed all that. Our hair started getting longer, and no longer were we getting hair cuts, nope we were getting hair styles, even if we didnít call it that. There were two sets of brothers in town, and to be honest they had the coolest hair, it was called a ďshagĒ, and most of wanted to have ours just like them. Even if we couldnít, but we let ours grow any way. One friend of mine, his was so long, every time he shot a basketball, he had to hold the hair out of his eyes. But he wouldnít have cut it for the world. Letís face it, long hair was cool back then.

Then came the ďpermanentĒ, not a ladies permanent, but a ďmenísĒ permanent. Which thankfully, didnít last too long. I still give a friend of mine the devil about his. By the late eighties it was the ďmulletĒ, donít laugh, most of us let our hair grow out again, even if we donít want to admit it. I admit I kinda got a little carried away letting mine grow. How many of you remember that first picture I had in the paper all those years ago? What you couldnít see was my hair was past my shoulders, in a pony tail. I promised Mel for years she could cut it, but one day I was in the beauty shop {see what I mean about things changing, it use to be the barber shop] and I just told Emily, go ahead, whack it off. To be honest, I think that was the end of the hair experience for me.

Now like most of us, mine is so short you canít even get a grip on it. Where there is any to grip. I remember when I finally quit with the flattop, and finally had enough to part. Daddy gave me a comb, and told me to always carry it in my back pocket, kinda like a rite of passage. No longer did he have to bend down to comb that unruly mop, I was old enough to do it myself. I havenít carried one in years, but there was always one in his back pocket. But Saturday I had enough, so I hollered for Kt get the clippers.

Iíve given up on barber shops and beauty shops, if she messes it up a little, just cut it a little shorter. How you gonna hurt something thatís barely there?

Plus it saved me fifteen bucks.

You may reach Robbin Bruce by e-mail at robbinbruce@yahoo.com.

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