I had fretted about my hair cut all day long. I had asked the barber to trim my hair around the ears and neatened up the back of my head and neck. I sat down and he went to work. When he got done though, what I had asked for and gotten were two different things.
But the damage was done and it couldn’t be corrected unless I wanted to have my hair glued on. I decided I could live without the hair or the glue.
As the day wore on I felt more and more out of place. It seemed everyone was staring at me. I guess it was just me.
Late into the day, around 5:00 o’clock or so, my father and I went out to wash clothes. Dad left to do some shopping at a near by grocery store. I stayed to watch that the clothes got washed . I was sitting on the washing machine reading the Triplicate. I looked up to see an old man and woman walk into the Laundromat and take a seat at the far end of the room.
I thought nothing of this and went back to reading the advertisements for new and used automobiles.
Now, I’m not one to claim I have E-S-P or anything like that but I got the strangest feeling that I was being stared at. I got a chill down my spine.
I lowered the paper and peeked over the edge . I looked down the walk way to where the old man and woman were sitting, and the old man was looking at me. His eyes snapped away as I made eye contact with him. He then started talking to the old woman next to him .
I just looked back to my paper.
Again, I got that feeling. But this time I knew where to look. Again the old man was looking at me and so was the old woman. At this point I was feeling very uncomfortable and getting fidgety.
This went on for about ten minutes and I was becoming more and more uncomfortable. Soon the old women got up and started collecting her wash. The old man helped her.
As soon as their clothes had been gathered they moved with a stiff shuffle towards me.
They stopped in front of me and the old man asked “How come someone your age has a good old fashion all-American hair cut?”
I looked at him and my but my mind drew a blank. I didn’t know what to say.
The old man concluded “It’s certainly good to see such a haircut on a young man of your generation and age.”
I just turned red and smiled.
They shuffled down the walkway and out the door, leaving me in stunned silence. And somehow my hair didn’t seem so bad. It made me feel good.
But I guess that was just me, too.