Yesterday I learned that my barber would be closing shop for the last time the weekend before Thanksgiving. Independently owned and part of the neighborhood for as long as I can remember, Harry, the owner and my professional cutter, can no longer afford the rent. This barbershop has the same look and feel as the shop from where my dad took me as a child. The pumping of the chair being raised is one sound that boys/men will never forget. The gentleman who work there are beyond professional, for the results they produce with what little hair they have to work with, I would consider them magical.
What I will miss most about the barbershop:
1) Debates on who has the best pizza in town.
2) Updates on the (mis)adventures of the wives and girlfriends
3) Whose dog bit who this week
4) Miami Dolphin anything
5) Bitching about 3 year old Sports Illustrated still on the rack
6) The variety of music from Blues to Reggae to Classic Rock
7) The people
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2 comments:
That's terrible-- which place was it?
I'm sorry for your loss. :(
Harry's Barber Shop.
The good news is that his son owns a shop a few miles away.
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