The Barber

The Barber

My mother and I had just returned from a successful day of shopping at Dillard’s where I was able to purchase some clothing (on sale, naturally) for work.  My mother then tells me the following story upon our return home:

Your father always liked to wear nice clothing – he was tall, slim and very handsome.  He also went to the barbershop in Chinatown on a monthly basis. (I remember accompanying my father on several of these trips.  He seemed most relaxed in this situation, receiving a haircut and straight razor shave and participating in the banter between barbers and customers).  He liked to look good.  When he was ill from his cancer, I remember bumping into his favorite barber from the shop while in Chinatown doing some grocery shopping. 

“I haven’t seen Mr. Kuo in quite a while” he noted.

 “He’s been very sick and in bed,” I replied.  “He hasn’t been able to leave the house in a while now.”

 “I’m so sorry! Can I come and visit him?”  The barber genuinely looked perturbed.  “I’m retired now and have a lot of spare time.”

I told him he could and gave him our home address.  He arrived several days later to visit your father.  I left them in the bedroom while they briefly spoke.  The barber came to me after seeing your father.

“Do you think Mr. Kuo would mind if I came back tomorrow and cut his hair?” he asked.  “I still have all of my instruments.”

Your father was very surprised by this request.  “This is wonderful!” he exclaimed.  “My hair is like weeds now!  I can’t travel to get my haircut and there isn’t any such thing as barber outcalls.  Of course he can come!”

The next day the barber arrived and sat your father in a chair in the bathroom. 

“Please cut it short,” my father requested.  “I can’t get out like I used to.”

The barber proceeded with the haircut and shave.  I remember it seemed to take 10 years of age off of your father.  They joked with each other and he made your father laugh for the first time in months.  The barber refused payment for the haircut, stating that I had already paid him.”  When asked what he meant, I told him that as the barber was illiterate, I had agreed to read some letters from his family in China and write some return letters for him as well.

The barber returned the following month to cut your father’s hair.  That would be his final haircut, as he passed away shortly afterwards.  He did leave this world, as he would have wanted, looking handsomely well groomed.