Ours are $10 here still not bad though. Our barber keeps the lastest copy of American Hunter in case you haven't recieved the latest copy yet.
:smile:Great story sixto.
A while back I had picked up my mail on the way to get my hair cut. Very small town one chair shop with a lady barber. Had just picked up my latest copy of American Rifleman so I just carried it into the shop, figured I would read it if I had to wait. No wait that day so I laid the American Rifleman on the barber's counter and sat back in the chair.
"Oh, my husband just got his copy" So the conversation of the day was guns in general and the importance of carrying. Neither one of us told but I almost got the feeling that she may had have a gun real handy.:wink: I did.:wink:
Great story! I wish that happened here in Phoenix more often, but alas there are few who openly talk about firearms.
I grew up in Good ol Central WV, and live in Southern WV. Nothing like a good REAL barber shop. Great story.
I walked into my barber last week and he pulled out the S&W 36 that he picked up at a local pawn shop.
You don't get stuff like that at a hair stylist! :hand5:
My small town barber handled K-9s in Vietnam, came home and went to barber school. Still cutting hair. Used to drive out to my grandfather's farm to cut his hair after he could no longer get around.
My mom would pay him and later we'd find the money in the cookie jar. Did the same for my dad when he was in hospice. Good man.
Small town barbershops. One of the many things that is great about this country.
A friend a mine just retired, he had been a barber since he got home from an enlistment in the Navy. He is 80 something and a WW2 vet. He didn't retire because he was ready to retire, he retired to take care of his wife who is not in good health.
I had known for sometime that he was a WW2 vet. I'd heard bits and pieces from others for years, but he never had much to say about it. When he did, it wasn't much, and I would respectfully listen and learn.
One day I was reading the paper, and they had a special on WW Veterans that had served that were still living here in town. I was surprised to see a full 3 page article on him alone, complete with pictures. He was on a specially modified gunboat, one of several that hit Iwo Jima the day the Marines landed. His ship was modified with several battery's of rockets as well as guns, to soften up the defenses. Unfortunately that day, with many of his crewman killed, they had to abandon ship due to extensive damage. The ship sunk that next night.
The Japanese thought that they were seeing the main invasion force, and concentrated their firepower on those several ships. The only good thing about it was that it exposed several previously unknown Japanese battery's that were taken out by battleships.
To this day he tears up when he remembers his crew-mates that stayed with the ship that day. He was a gun captain and lost several of his men.
On a lighter note...
Another friend of mine has his own shop that he has tended for years. He has always carried a Berreta .25 caliber in his pocket and he got a permit to carry several years ago from me. Knowing about his method of carry, I tried to persuade him to carry the tiny gun in a pocket holster. His reply was that he had carried it most of his life that way with no ill effects.
One day it happened. He was getting out of his SUV and something in his pocket fouled the trigger and the gun discharged, shooting through the top of his thigh and through his calf. Fortunately for him it only passed though muscle and although he was in alot of pain, the damage was minor.
So he calls me up and says "you were right". I said " how so? " then he told me about the incident. His wife had called the ambulance to transport him from a restaurant parking lot where the event took place. Of course, radio traffic went out over the airwaves to for the ambulance to respond to a gunshot victim and naturally the police were dispatched. Being a small town, soon it was the talk of the town. So, he took the next day off of work to lay up and by day two he was so bored that he opened up shop again, hobbling around with a cane to support the weight on his shot leg.
The first customer to come in was wearing a helmet, and a flack jacket. Customer no 2 came in sporting a ballistic shield borrowed from the Sheriff Dept. Customer no 3, the Sheriff himself, walked over to him, greeted him, and then went over him with a hand held metal detector, just to make sure everyone was "safe".
He was got. Everyone started cracking up, and being the good natured Barber that he was, he took it all in stride.
I get my hair cut at the same shop my pawpa and dad used. I got my first haircut there sixty years ago. Now the place is only open Friday and Saturday. Lots of different barbers over the years.
Pawpa always tried to get me a haircut when the train was dropping off the mail. The stationmaster would hang the outgoing mail bag on a pole next to the track. The bag was kind of long and he cinched it up real tight in the middle. As the train passed through town, they would toss out the incoming mail pouch which would slide down the platform. Then the mail car man on the train would lean out and hook the outgoing mail bag right on the cinch and swing it on to the train. Perfect view of all of this from the barber shop. It was the highlight of my haircut. My boys used the same barber shop, but the mail has not come on the train for decades. So their memories will not be as vivid.
The barber in the village where I grew up lived for collecting guns, when he passed his daughter was amazed when she started hauling his guns out.
BTW, I was waiting for you to say Andy Taylor came in looking for Barney. :hand5:
I miss going to the barber. I used to get my hair cut at the local barber shop every 3 weeks , but when I went through my divorce , money got tight and I started buzzing my own hair.
I may have to go back once in a while now , the straight razor treatment was always nice.
Small town barbers, I miss them, and there are darn few left.
Where I grew up, Mr. Rhodes cut my hair for over 15 years before I moved away. I practically grew up in his chair. He shared his love of coin collecting with me. He treated me like an adult and talked to me like one too when I was just a kid. He gave me my first straight razor shave for free.
He learned to cut hair in the military if I remember correctly. He was a successful barber and a good man. In time, he became a member of the Harrisonburg City Council, and even the Mayor for a time. He passed on some years back, and I moved away long ago. I remember him fondly, and I sure do miss that man.
Barber shop, what the heck is that?
Oh, wait that is where I take my son since he is only 6 and still has hair. I just use an electric trimmer and cut what little is left on my head.
The wife took our son the first time to the barber shop we have always used for our little one, which is about a block and a half down the road from our office. When she was waiting to put the little one in the chair she reached on top of a mantle over a gas fire place and picked up a magazine. It was an old Playboy magazine. She quickly put it back and looked for something else. Well apparently they didn't have anything suitable for her, so now she just sits and listens to the talk of the men playing cards in the corner of the shop.
This guy is probably in his 70's or 80's and a real hoot to listen to and talk with. Hair cuts have gone up to $10 this year, and we still give him a buck tip as we always have. In return Joe gets a piece of bubble gum for himself and one for his mother. I never seem to get a piece of gum.
I love the old small town shops, of all kinds.
This thread has got me thinking, I will post a new one based on something this thread has put in my mind :smile:
You may laugh, but here, I get away with taking off my sportcoat (exposing my shoulder rig and .44 Special.) My friend quickly covers me with the protective hair shield and gives me a "military" haircut. The lady knows that if anything in the parlor "went south" that I would be the first to defend her and the salon. Wisdom and friendship defeat fear and ignorance every time.
In a city of this size, as well as being a "bedroom community" to the "leftist heaven" of Portland, Oregon the approach is mighty comforting.
Not too many places like that left these days.