I did not go bicycle riding. It was too cold. I did go grocery shopping with Bill so that was fun. I ran into a local character, Captain Fun who used to hang around outside Maxwell’s back in the day. He’s a bit off, but ok when he’s on his meds. He was grocery shopping in the supermarket and asked about Steve Fallon and his sister Mary. They used to look out for him way back when almost 35 years ago I reckon.

We went to the supermarket earlier than usual and I had a nice breakfast, eggs and toast. Quite simple and easy to make with little fuss. We watched TV and I went and got a haircut, based on a photo of me from 35 years ago. Nick the barber is quite a character.

The barbershop is just a few doors down from us and I’ve been going to them for about 20 years. I used to get a haircut on West 37th Street in Manhattan at a Korean clip joint that was a front for a massage parlor. Climb the steps to the second floor. On your right is a barbershop, on the left are women lounging on a couch in bikinis.

One time as I was getting a haircut, manicured hands started rubbing my shoulders and asking ‘Do you like? Come in the back…’ I begged off saying that I had to catch a train to Long Island. I felt guilty passing the local barbershop, Mr. L’s, so I started going to them instead. I tried all the barbers, or perhaps stylists, Nick, Lou (Mr.L), and Tony.

Tony was the oldest, from Italy, and was my favorite. He’d trim my nose hair, eyebrows, ear hair and certainly earned his $10.00 tip on a $15.00 haircut. Tony being the eldest barber soon had some health problems. Sometimes he’d bounce back after an operation, including one where he reportedly died on the table. He told me all about it with a scissor in my ear.

Lou retired, Tony left due to the pandemic, leaving his son Nick and two or three women who I’ve tried and found to be lacking to put it nicely. They looked awful in bikinis. I posted photos on the social medias and my brother Brain asked it was cut at Pete the barber in Lodi.

I hadn’t thought of Pete the barber in decades and immediately remembered that I used to think it was a place to get a haircut if one was being punished. Pete was brutal. I preferred Phil the barber, a little farther away but still within walking distance on the border of Lodi and Maywood.

But I think my main barbershop memory of when I was a kid was one Saturday afternoon my father decided it was time I got a haircut. I didn’t want a haircut but had no say whatsoever in the matter.

It was a drive to Fair Lawn and on the way I chanted to myself, Hare Krishna, Hail Mary, Jai Guru Deva Om, basically anything I could remember from what I heard in life or a Beatles song. We pulled up outside the barbershop and the lights were off. I was elated.

Then my father saw his VFW buddy, John Fontana inside sweeping up and John Fontana put away the broom and let us in, my elation deflated. I got what I wanted, the barbershop was closed, but the owner was inside ready for one more haircut for the day. Hence, my distrust of chanting.

I did remember that once I had a school project where we had to interview someone and I did an imaginary interview with John Fontana who said in the fake interview that being a barber was like being a therapist, where people come in and tell their problems. I think I got a good grade and my parents were somewhat flabbergasted that I had created this interview out of thin air.