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Tisdale Barber/Stylist |
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| FTLComm - Tisdale - Friday, November 29, 2002 | ||||||
We are proud to be able to bring you the scoop on this story and now the secret's out. Mr. Mann maintains his impeccable appearance by getting a trim at Tisdale Barber / Sylist where A. Paul Van Oene is clipping away at fringes and manes of all kinds. |
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Ask any man and he can tell you with exceeding clarity about the two most important firsts in his life. Going to get his first "real" hair cut and the time he got his tung frozen to some object. All the other firsts in your life are interesting but these two determine a pattern of life. |
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It was only really dumb guys who get their tung frozen twice, it is a memorable experience and the lesson sticks with you. |
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But going to the barber the first time is really something. In the past many barber shops were located in a den of inequity, the "pool hall". I was forbidden to go in there because my mother said there was bad language and gambling. But to get you hair cut that was okay, as long as you did not go in their alone, and, listen to any swearing. |
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My first haircut is as vivid in my mind today as it was when I was what must have been four. Both Mom and Dad were there for the big event, I think the barber was "Bob Bratton", it was in Wawota and the barber shop was in the front part of that dreadful place. I was utterly and completely terrified and attempted to negotiate some alternative but no, it was a rite of passage. |
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The barber was enormous, spoke to my Mom, my dad made some excuse about having to go do something and after waiting for other customers it was my turn and my mother edged me toward the chair. Barbers chairs at that time were amazing huge things with inlaid pearl, polished brass and chrome and studs that held the upolstery in place. |
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He spoke to me and motioned for me to climb way up into the chair and then raised a wide padded board from somewhere. I was terrified up to then but that board sweeping through the air above me out of no where was the cue for all composure to leave and there was nothing manly about the tears streaming down my cheeks and the sobs coming from me. Strong hands from some where wisked me up onto that board that now sat across the arms of the chair and a hair covered shawl was pinned around my neck. |
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Now the board was scary but the with the last customer there had been a lot of slopping around with a gleeming knife on a huge leather belt. I was now way beyond consolation, my life was clearly over. |
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As it turned out my life as a little boy was over. In minutes the long hair that had covered my ears was tumbling onto the shawl and the hand operated clippers were click clicking away around my ears and to my utter astonishment I had survived. The tears were drying on my face and it was my mothers turn to have tears form in her eyes. |
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