Where Did Our Love Go? And My Hair?
On Tuesday after school I stopped by my barber to get my mane cut back. As I wrote last week, I let my hair grow long and the beard get scruffy so I wouldn't look as much like a mark out in Detroit. I have written about my barber before. Walking into the shop, it is a step back in time. There is a fading picture of pitcher Bruce Sutter on the wall (a Columbia boy who pitched for the St. Louis Cardinals three decades ago). The decor and furniture look decidedly ancient. The radio plays oldies. My barber has been cutting hair professionally before I was born. He specializes in annihilating bushy eyebrows. As I settled down for my shearing, a Four Tops song came up on the radio. I went with the vibe and let my barber give me a crew cut. I was expecting Archie and Jughead to come in the shop for a trim before meeting the girls Veronica and Betty for chocolate malts at Hinkle's (an old school local restaurant that recently put in a retro soda fountain). I had tried to eluc