Jerry's View: A haircut can make your day
Editor’s note: This column was written in 2011 by Publisher Emeritus Jerry Robinson.
By Jerry Robinson
Well. i got a haircut today.
Nick the barber was walking in front of his shop yesterday holding up a sign which read' NO HAIRCUT, NO NICK. '
I hated the thought of him starving to death so I hired him again this month.
I have been holding off till ex Sheriff Reichert runs for Governor next election. He has a haircut that got him elected as U.S. Representative and he is planning to ride that haircut all the way to the White House.I am not running.
Nick has been cutting hair our here for a long time, He had a shop at the West Seattle Junction, then he moved to White Center and has been in Burien across the street from Sal's Deli on 6th Ave.since 1979
Nick doesn't promise to get me elected to anything but he does agree to be careful not to scar up my skull. So far after about thirty years he has yet to put a Nick in my scalp.
My Dad was my only barber tilI I was 12 and he had scissors and clippers that he also used on my dog Fritzy.
Dad also had a leather razor strop.Not strap. He used it sharpen his straight edge razor that was about six inches long with a really sharp blade. A wicked looking thing that he shaved himself with . The strop he also used as a weapon for delivering stinging raps on obstreperous boys. I never felt it but my big brother did a few times.
We had a huge old tub in our only bathroom. Besides Dad's shaving stuff the room had a towel rack and a toilet.
All ten kids (five girls and four boys (it would have been five boys but a little brother only lived six months) and Saturday night was set aside for big brother Russell and I to share the suds once a week whether we needed it or not .
We'd fill the tub with about 5 inches of tepid water and while it was rising we always soaped up the slip and slide rim and took turns pushing each] other from one end to the other.
One night Russ gave me a hefty shove and I whizzed around the track for a world record and hit my forehead on the hot water tap.
Naturally, I howled like I had a broken skull and before Russell could stuff a wash cloth in my mouth Dad burst into the door and grabbed his razor strop and cracked poor Russell's butt a couple of times.
Russell took it grimly and refused to wail. I felt guilty and slid under the water hoping nobody would notice me.
I guess Nick doesn't have a strop. At least I have never seen one.I hope not. I would hate to have him whack me if I bellowed about scissors that always pull hard when the tips of the blades are not sharp.
Sometimes Dad would give us pig shaves and we once had a baby pig that the guys at the hog ranch gave my brother Albert because they discovered it had no B=M hole and
Albert came home from the hog ranch and put it under the house in a cubby hole and went in to feed it and kneeled on it and it made an awful mess and Albert had to bury it.
So I know what a shaved pig looks like.
I know this story has nothing to do with pig shaves or haircuts but I thoughI would share it.
I wonder if Nick does pig shaves.