A Forrest Trim

Although my barber’s name is Christine, behind her back, I call her my “Barbara.” She’s been cutting my hair for quite a while at the Disston Barber Shop just off 49th Street. The shop is very convenient for me, and I head over there once a month. Christine not only gives a good trim, but she is quite a talker. She’s presently attending college, and I hear about her favorite as well as her unfavorite classes and professors. I’ve been going to this barber shop for my $12.00 plus a tip haircut for years. Not only is the shop convenient, but I usually don’t have to wait very long. There’s a sign on the door that says “Friendly Barber Shop.” I tease Christine occasionally, reminding her that I have come for a “friendly” haircut. Once when I went in for my monthly cut, Christine wasn’t there so I allowed someone I didn’t know to cut my hair. When I checked out the cut, I found that I had been butchered on the sides. My first reaction was that it would soon grow out. My bowling buddies’ evaluation was: “Where did you get that Forrest Gump haircut?”


About bobosbest

I am an 80-year-old retired English teacher whose writing goals are fulfilled by publishing these blogs. I have a wonderful married partner, Dimitris Tsitsiras, who is from Greece. Life is good and still an adventure.
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