Buzz Cut!

Hair cuttin’ ain’t changed much in the last fifty or so years. They still cover you with that sheet thingy to keep the hair off you, the chairs are pretty much the same, and they still use those darn clippers. I don’t like hair clippers, mainly because the noise they make when you turn them on makes me nervous. They make a loud clacking noise then settle into an electric hum, but it’s the initial “clack” that gets to me. The sound tends to summon up some real bad memories that get my eyes wide and my old ticker to thumpin’.

Okay. Some of you are out there snickering and saying, “Oh? This is the dude that ain’t afraid a nothing?”

Well let me tell you something: I used to be afraid; I used to be scared to death. The situations that made me afraid varied, but the source was always the same… my old man. One of the times he scared me the most, was on those Saturday mornings he’d set me down in a dining room chair in the kitchen for what he called a “hair cut”.

The problem was, he wasn’t any good at cutting hair, and that, combined with the fact it scared the daylights out of me just being in the same room with him, made for one gut-twisting Saturday morning.

Dad was a crew cut, flat top, kinda guy, and boy when the Beatles hit the States, you shoulda heard him cuss them boys. He didn’t like long hair on a boy. He was a red neck all the way.

My brothers and I should have been so lucky as to be able to sport a nice crew-cut or flat-top, but due to the old man’s lack of expertise with the clippers, we spent the majority of our childhood with what’s known as a “buzz-cut”. He always set out to do a regular cut, but it just never quite worked out. Seems it always came down to that last little finishing touch, an “oops”, a cussing fit, then… buzz cut.13162050_10208195540359540_322867260_n

Many times, sitting in that chair for thirty minutes or longer all tensed up with fear was almost more than I could take. The guy meant well, and I’m sure he would’ve sent us to the barber if he’d been able to afford it, but I wonder sometimes if he knew, or cared, what he was doing to us. Sometimes, I think he knew full well the fear he instilled in us, and I think he enjoyed it. And, I don’t think that was a good thing. A kid shouldn’t have to live in constant fear of a parent.

Things have changed; not for all kids, but I’d say for the majority of them. Parents today give their children a lot more say in what happens in their lives. It’s a two edged sword though, and I’m not so sure the way it is now is better than the way it was then. It seems to me there is a severe lack of discipline, which has led to a generation of young people who have little and many times absolutely no respect for their parents, or, for that matter, adults in general. I think we might have gone too far the other direction, if you know what I mean.

 

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2 Comments »

  1. Ken Mashburn said

    Wow do I remember that well. But the clacking didn’t bother me as much as the heat of the damn clippers. Youngest was always last and by that time the damn things were hot as a poker. It was bad enough to get burnt but a cuff upside the head for jumping when the damn things burnt my damn ears was worse. Kinda insult to injury. LOL no wonder I let that hair grow down to the middle of my back when I got away! Great picture of us Boys , that little one sure was / is cute!

    • Ha! I remember the heat of em too! I bet they WERE hot by the time your turn came around! Oh, and you coulda left it at was cute. Just sayin.

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