Dad The Barber

    I guess Dad cut all the kids hair, but I can only remember the times he got the pillow out and beckoned for me.  The clippers were manual and had the handles that were squeezed together.  His routine was to disassemble, clean, oil liberally, and adjust with great precision.  A small pillow was borrowed from the couch, a towel pinned around my neck, and he placed my head in position, which was not always the most comfortable, on the dining room table.  In the summer, shop was set up on the West porch.

 Take some off the sides, please.   All haircuts were of the same style, which included the part on the left side, and combed to the right.  For the most part all went as well as could be expected but at times either Dad or I would tire and discomfort resulted.  We had signals.  It was either a pull or a dig.  If a dig, it was probably my fault, but a pull meant that the adjustment was off and required taking things apart, oiling and reassembly.  For the most part Dad's scissor and comb technique was very skillful.

    I received home haircuts until well into high-school.



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