I got a haircut. A realtively routine procedure to maintain an decent appearance. I have been going to the same barber for over 6 years. As I sat in the chair listening to the almost soothing sound of the scissors trimming about, I began to think of how my barber's view must be on daily life.

I began to imagine how everyday, he sees someone that he has not seen for at least 3-4 weeks. What a snapshot view of things! To only be a part of someone's life for a fraction of an hour before watching them exit the shop and continue on with what their lives hold for them. Yet, when I sit in that chair he seems to pick up our conversation almost seamlessy with where we left off the last time. I speculate that this is easier for me to remember than him. I only have one barber. he has hundreds of clients.

Intrigued with my thoughts on this, I began to speak with him about it. I was thirsty for his perspective and found such a respect for it. To know that he has customers that he has known for so long, that they have become friends. It has to be difficult for him to not hear from his friends for weeks at a time. His face is always cheerful, but I caught him off-guard when I shared this with him. He stopped his clipping for a second and I could see the thought of it sink in. Afterall, he has been a barber since 1982...this is his way of life.

He shared stories with me of a family for which he has been grooming since he began 27 years prior. He chuckled as he told me that he is the barber for the 3rd generation of that family. He became close with another family over the last 12 years, and recently returned from a shared vacation with them. It was a happy thought to think that such friendships were formed from the realtionship between barber and customer.

Then, the discussion took a different turn. I could not control my curiosity and asked if there were any customers who had passed before their next cut. I was sad to think that he may not have heard of their passing while wondering how long their hair was getting. He thought for a second, and then began a story of a "young boy". I expected to hear of an elderly or sick person. It was surprising to hear the preface in such a manner.

He continued, telling me that he had cut the boy's hair since he was in middle school. Then, he grew and graduated high school. The boy joined the military and was sent off to basic training. He did not see him for many months, but one day he returned while on leave. He spoke of the initial enthusiasm that he had for the military, and how it had then changed to fear and disrespect for war. He was saddened that he knew people would lose their lives. Probably by his hand. My barber recalled that he told him: "But you joined...you have no choice. You gotta go on and finish what you started." The boy accepted this and departed as he had the same way every month for years.

Unfortunately, that boy was killed in Iraq. When my barber finished telling me this story, I drew in a breath at what I just heard. Then, I told him that I knew the name of the boy. He was my neighbor. I had no idea that our community circles were that tight and I could remember the same boy telling me with enthusiasm of his accomplishments in the military and his plans upon his return. Silence dominated the conversation for a few moments after that.

Life is short, shorter for those who may not realize what they have. It does not always take war to make you realize that, but it may remind some of us.

HWL