Category Archives: Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology, Faith

Big Little Words

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It’s been over 45 years since Mom gave her first haircut in Caldwell’s Barber Shop. And though so many years have passed, she will tell you exactly who her first customer was and what he said. Mom was a nervous twenty-nine year old and had just graduated from the Lawton Barber School. Dad needed help, especially on Friday afternoons and all day Saturdays.

Mom is quick to remind anyone asking, not hair-stylist, not hair-dresser turned hair-cutter; Mom didn’t take short cuts with clipper attachments and she used a straight razor around the ears. It was in a barber shop after all, not a salon. (You go to a barber shop to get a flat-top or tapered clipper cut; you go to a salon to get highlights and over priced scissor cut. I think much more highly of the barbershop, but I am biased, I’m the son of barbers.)

I like the smell of a real barber shop. Give me some Jeris hair tonic and I’m home again.

The barber shop is the ultimate man cave (though I read recently that “man cave” is passé). My point is, it’s a man’s world inside an old fashioned barber shop. My Mom handled herself quite nicely inside the mancave, she learned to trade barbs with the guys and not to take the smart alecks too seriously. When a fella made a crack about the lady barber, she could crack right back. Continue reading Big Little Words →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: Ritual of Preparation

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“Spectacular achievements come from unspectacular preparation.”  Roger Staubach

I looked at the clock and mercifully it read, 5:35. Dad would end his day by putting away his scissors, resting his clippers, counting the cash in the drawer, and writing something in his ledger. But he would do that no earlier than 6pm.

I knew I could make closing much faster if I would begin the Barbershop Closing Ritual. That meant all the dirty towels had to be placed in a hamper, the floor had to be swept, ash trays cleaned, lather dispenser filled, and magazines organized. It meant being alert to any signals from Dad pointing me to a detail I had missed, (a nod, a glance, or a subtle point with a comb).

The final act of the day was watching Dad slightly open the door to the back of the shop, reach behind the wall and turn off the lights. Turning the Open/Closed sign was a quick trick and I hustled to jump into his pick-up truck parked just around the corner. If we hurried I could catch the last episode of the Flintstones or maybe shoot some baskets before dark. Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Ritual of Preparation →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology — God Almighty

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“Good God Almighty!” The words were as emphatic as they were profane; those three words seemed to be the natural and uninhibited expression in the moment. I looked to the entrance of Dad’s barbershop to see a soldier in his dress greens framed by the doorway. He was grinning ear to ear. I think he was home on leave or perhaps getting ready to ship out to Viet Nam . . . or perhaps not. Why I remember that heartfelt exclamation I do not know, but it was joyous and offered with a knee slap and tobacco stained grin. The old man in blue Oshkosh overalls couldn’t help himself, he was surprised and pleased. It brings me to a couple of thoughts about cursing, profanity, and the pseudo-therapy we find in using expletives to express our passion. Continue reading Barbershop Theology — God Almighty →

Barbershop Theology

Barber Shop Theology – To Cuss or Not to Cuss

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I’m a hypocrite in more ways than I like to admit. In fact, I’m a hypocrite in some ways that I won’t admit. Wait, maybe it’s not so much that I’m a hypocrite, I just tend to have double-standards here and there. In particular…

Sometimes Expletives Make Me Laugh

     Most commonly, folks would define an expletive as a cuss word, vulgarity, or profanity. But the actual dictionary definition is “a word without meaning added to fill a sentence; serving to fill up, merely for effect.”

I am tempted to write and distinguish between obscenities and profanities; there is a difference between foul language and a curse word. Etymology is one of my favorite areas of study; I love to look at the history  and origins of words, and how the meaning of a word can change over time. Swear words, “off-color” words, and vulgar words — there is a difference, you know.  Continue reading Barber Shop Theology – To Cuss or Not to Cuss →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology – God the Father

A Father’s Words at Quittin’ Time

As we locked the front entrance to the barber shop, a half hour an hour have normal quittin’ time, I would say something like, “Wow, that was a really long day.” Dad opened the shop at 7am and closed at 6pm. When we didn’t leave until 6:30 or near 7:00 I could see my father’s exhaustion.

I must have heard Dad say it twenty times. It was distinct when he said it, and he meant it.  “I’m just thankful I can work and take care of my family.”

As he turned the key on his work day his response was authentic to his soul. He remembered being a young man with a wife and two little boys. He remembers lying in a hospital bed, down in his back and wondering if he would ever be able to work. Continue reading Barbershop Theology – God the Father →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology – Pass the Salt

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Pass the Salt

Salt. What an amazing additive. Salt. Never set the table without it. Most of us handle a salt shaker each and every day. For me, it always made food taste better. In the right amounts salt will accentuate the natural flavor of an otherwise bland food.

The Salt of the Earth

Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth.” What a brilliant description of His children— they bring the flavor of God’s Kingdom into the earth.

A playful paraphrase would be, “My children are in the world to accentuate the real purposes of creation.”  What if society declared, It’s so great that we have so many Christians living in our city, they are such great fun, lively, gracious people; they just make everything a little better!  Continue reading Barbershop Theology – Pass the Salt →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: My Faith Hero

An Honest Faith

I first heard a small diatribe on the subject of faith while visiting Dad’s barber shop.  I was a college student and had grown very interested in my parents’ renewed passion for Christ.  I tuned in a bit more than usual when a fella that I barely knew started to deliver his discourse on faith.

As I recall his talk, I remember it as just that—a lot of talk.  It sounded something like this…

“It’s all about faith, you know.  When we get sick, God’s just testing us to see if we can get rid of all our questions and just believe in Him and his power.  Why, just the other day I believed really hard that God could heal my aching back, and he did!  I was tempted to doubt, but I didn’t let it get to me.  My faith healed me!”

I listened as this customer in my dad’s shop proclaimed his conviction that “most of the world’s problems are really just because people don’t have enough faith,” and that poverty, sickness, and pain could be effectively wiped out if people would just extinguish their doubts with a fire hose of super-powerful trust in God.

His talk concerned me.  Maybe he knew how to muster up that kind of super-strong faith, but I’m here to confess, I’ve never really been a person who’s been able to get rid of all his doubts or questions. In fact, I would give myself a C- if I had to submit a report card on myself. Continue reading Barbershop Theology: My Faith Hero →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: Faith at the Razor’s Edge

A straight razor is an imposing instrument. I have watched my dad use one a thousand times, my mom too for that matter.

I loved to watch Dad extend the razor strap and whisk the blade back and forth on it. He would hone that blade to a pristine cutting edge before giving a shave or neatly trimming around a fresh haircut.

Customers who asked for a shave relaxed and wholly trusted Dad to set that blade to their face and throat. The steps were simple. First the customer was laid back in the barber’s chair, then Dad jerked the side lever and gently pulled the back to a vertical position. Next a steaming towel, bearably hot, was put on the face. A nice lather followed and as the whiskers were pacified, Dad prepared the blade for the task.

This memory shifts to my Mom’s barber chair. Late one Saturday evening she was asked to give a shave. That didn’t happen often with the lady barber. Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Faith at the Razor’s Edge →

Barbershop Theology, Faith

Barber Shop Theology – Directions

How many words are in the Bible? “In the beginning God . . .” Look, four words at the start.

“Yes, I am coming soon.”  Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.  The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen.

See that? There are twenty more words at the end of the last book of the Bible.

I read somewhere that there are maybe a million words in the Bible. I spent my whole childhood hoping to find a genie in a bottle or get a wish; my goal was to ask for a million dollars. I figured a million of anything would be plenty.

Growing up in my dad’s barber shop taught me many life lessons. One lesson was how to give good directions. Quite often a stranger would step into the shop to ask for directions to a farm, or place like Boone, Broxton, Richard’s Spur or Porter Hill. Sometimes they would name a place three doors around the corner. A barber shop on Main Street was an easy find. Our directions went something like this: “Go up to the light (the only red light in town) and turn north, go `bout a half mile and turn back west. Head on out past the Sale Barn and go a `lil over five miles and turn right out there where the road bends. It’s just right there across a `lil-lo bridge.”  Continue reading Barber Shop Theology – Directions →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology – a lesson from a hot check

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Barbershop Theology

I have attended college. I have attended four of them. I learned a lot at college. I have degrees that suggest, “Hey, this guy learned.” But I can never replace the lessons I learned as the shoe-shine boy in my dad’s barbershop.

Hundreds of people came through Caldwell’s Barber Shop over the years.  Between public school and the barber shop I received an education in Apache, Oklahoma. Here’s another story that has helped me understand a little more about the world, myself, and the truth to live by.

Salesmen and “Simpletons”

A unique sub-set of folks that came through Apache viewed us locals as rubes or hayseeds. I was always entertained when some of the locals would oblige the stereotype. They did it purposefully. Most of the people that visited our fair small town were gracious, winsome, and very kind. A few of them were condescending (a few salesmen) they “shore was high themselves.”

As a boy, I was maybe ten or eleven years old, I could be easily impressed by a smooth presentation and a new gizmo with an interesting name. The old timers who loitered in Dad’s barbershop weren’t so easily moved. My job was to observe from the sideline as the pitchman worked the crowd and then watch as one of the locals morphed into Gomer Pyle. Continue reading Barbershop Theology – a lesson from a hot check →

Barbershop Theology

Barber Shop Theology – The Big & Small of it

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The Big and Little of the Gospel

 I’ve heard it said that the gospel is simple enough for a child to understand and still so complex that theologians can discuss it at great length. This makes the gospel all the more beautiful.

Just how wonderful is the gospel? Even angels long to look into these things. I Peter 1:12

Precisely what is this gospel? It is ‘good news’. But what is the content of this good news?  Well, for this Barber Shop Theological foray, let’s see the big and the small of the Gospel.

My dad, Oscar, first stepped behind the barber’s chair of his shop in Apache, Oklahoma in January of 1963. I was in the first grade. There is no telling how many thousands of haircuts he has given over the past 48 years.

My dad tried to retire once and sold his shop in town, but a stream of guys from around town found their way to the house and the chair he had put into the garage, and soon he was only semi-retired.  To this day, he still greets customers by their first names as they show up a mile north of town to get a haircut. On my recent visit home Continue reading Barber Shop Theology – The Big & Small of it →

Barbershop Theology

Barber Shop Theology … continued (Hurry & Wait)

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“Hurry up and Wait”

 What shall it profit a man if he should gain the whole world (even if he hurries) and lose his soul. Mark 8:36

Speed. There is definitely a need for speed in our society. Wait, did I say need? Okay, there is a want for speed. You might think that with all the time-saving devices, gizmos, and machines at our disposal, we would have plenty of time to sit and ponder. Nope, we are busier than ever.

I’m not a terribly impatient person, but I chuckle at my ability to choose the slowest check-out person at the grocery store. In an age of fast foods, express lanes, Jiffy Lubes, quick printing, speed dialing (and dating), instant messages, well, you get the picture — the fact is, we can do more, faster than at any time in history, and yet we regularly hear, “I just don’t have enough time!”

 

Barber Shop Theology

Last week I referenced the beauty of waiting, particularly, waiting for a haircut. When life puts you in a holding pattern, what do you do with it? Scripture says, “They that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength.” This suggests value in waiting.

Waiting is like most other activities of life, it can serve a wonderful purpose when we choose by faith, to embrace joy because that activity belongs to God. “In everything give thanks for this is the will of God.” (I Thessalonians 5:18).

Waiting and Action

I remember many, many great waiters in my dad’s barber shop.  But one young man particularly stand out from the others. He was out of work and was spending more and more of his time reading the newspaper and listening to the barber shop banter.  He was developing a routine, complete with a standard answer for those who wanted to know what he was up to.

The question would eventually come. “So, what you been up to? I heard you was out of a job.” Continue reading Barber Shop Theology … continued (Hurry & Wait) →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: Waiting for…

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Barber Shop Theology

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing. ~ Psalm23:1

 

“Hurry up and Wait”

 

I have an advantage over the others; I have learned the value of waiting. No, I have not perfected waiting, I just know there is an art to it. As a barber’s son and retired shoeshine boy, I have logged many hours just watching people wait. Some are better than others.

“Back in my day,” a phrase I am growing more and more fond of, life moved more slowly. We didn’t have instant anything. The closest thing to space age was Tang and Jiffy Pop. Those two items still amaze me.

Jiffy Pop, space age magic!

I went to my local barber shop a few days ago. I was in a hurry. I don’t remember why, but there was surely an important reason for my rush.  The shop was busy, very busy. Darn. Oh well, I have my Blackberry and I can keep up the hurried pace. But something in my barber’s son DNA kicked in; I put my gadget away and decided to wait. It was everything I remembered it to be. Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Waiting for… →

Barbershop Theology

Barber Shop Theology: Integration of the Mind

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As I have reflected on those days growing up in the barber shop, it has been fun to romanticize the experience; the wide-eyed wonder of being a boy privileged to hang out in the town “man-cave” has taken me to very vivid recollections. Heck, I’ve managed to charm myself. However, I’m not particularly comfortable or proud of some parts.

This day I reflect on barbershop conversations exactly 45 years ago this month.

History note – June 11, 1966 – Police arrest 22 of about 200 protesters picketing Doe Doe Recreation Park, a private, segregated amusement park with a swimming pool in Lawton.

One of the most wonderful places I went to as a boy was Doe Doe Park.  The swimming pool was huge. It had swings, and a tower and multiple diving boards. In 1966 this place was pristine, especially in comparison to all the dirty cow ponds, shallow creeks and muddy lakes most of us were accustomed to. There were no swimming pools in Apache.

I remember Doe Doe Park fondly. I remember that it was for white only. Sadly, that didn’t bother me; it was the world as I knew it.

Doe Doe Park Pool, Lawton

In the barber shop men talked about the “Negroes trying to swim with the whites.” I remember one person referring to some “uppity coloreds causing trouble down at Doe Doe Park.” Apparently some “Northerners” were involved, whatever that meant; I pictured arrogant and rude people. It seemed to me that these were not good people. Now where did I get that idea as a ten year old? Continue reading Barber Shop Theology: Integration of the Mind →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: First Haircut

Because I want to be a responsible citizen and give careful note regarding the topic, I’ll submit this preface. Alcohol abuse is bad.  Drunkenness is bad.  In fact, I would go further and say the only kind of indulgence I have ever seen that isn’t bad is the love of God.

The following recollection is one of my favorite and clearest memories, and for no good reason. I think I just chalk it up to the unique experience a kid could have 40 or 50 years ago. It’s also a tribute to all the other lessons unremembered in the people business.

The Barber’s Son and Shoe Shine Boy

As I have been remembering and writing about the hours I spend in my dad’s barbershop, it has finally dawned on me that what seemed like my entire childhood was actually a short window of time.  I was the shoe shine boy in 1965, and probably didn’t retire completely until 1968. Oh, I was in the shop a lot before and after that, but that was when I logged a lot of hours.

As the shoe shine boy I had the cool job of hanging around as men came and went all day. I listened to all manner of talk about the weather, price of cattle and/or references to hippies. Now that I think of it, hippies never came into the barber shop.

Saturdays and Saturday Nights

Saturdays were long. My dad would open the shop at 7am and we didn’t close until 9pm. I waited most Saturday mornings to go to work with my mom.  She didn’t step behind her chair until a minute past 9 in the morning.  I passed my day by shining shoes for a quarter and slipping off when things got slow to watch guys play pool, maybe play a pin ball machine or splurge to buy a Coke with a shot of cherry or vanilla in it.

On Saturday nights the street in front of the barber shop would always come alive with teenagers “dragging Main”. (Technically it’s Evans Ave. but I only throw that in for posterity.)  Continue reading Barbershop Theology: First Haircut →

Barbershop Theology, Man Cave, Oklahoma culture

Barbershop Theology: Mortality, the Mortician, and Me

It was cold. I remember that.

I had just started my part of the closing routine in Caldwell’s Barber Shop, sweeping clumps of hair, filling the lather machine, and straightening up the magazine tables. I was at the barber shop following a day at school. Mainly, I was just killing time and hoping we could close promptly at 6:00. I was anxious to go home.

The barber shop door opened and I turned to see Mr. Crews entering. I figured he would sit and wait. He would be the final customer of the day.

Mr. Crews owned the funeral home in Apache, Oklahoma. In fact, these many years later, it’s still Crews Funeral Home located in the middle of town. I always thought Mr. Crews was a really nice guy. But the funeral director didn’t sit. He walked over to my dad and said something, Dad nodded his head. Mr. Crews left.

Dad finished the haircut, thanked his customer and said, “thank you, come back.” (He always said that.)

Then Dad unplugged his clippers and wrapped them in a fresh towel. He placed a pair of scissors in his breast pocket, turned off the lights and as I was already moving toward the door. I ran to jump in the pick-up truck. I started the vehicle since the keys were right there in the ignition.

I slid across to the passenger’s side as Dad climbed in behind the steering wheel. We drove all of a half a block and stopped at Crews’ Funeral Home.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, though I could have guessed.

“Just wait in the pick-up,” he said.

“Are you going to cut a dead guy’s hair?” Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Mortality, the Mortician, and Me →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: Let’s Make a Deal, Pt. 2

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Peter was shocked; he was insulted. He protested the notion that he would EVER deny his Lord. Jesus rightly predicted Peter’s infidelity. Jesus knew Peter much better than this famous disciple knew himself.

“Lord, I would never do such a thing,” Peter objected.

Jesus calmly replied, “Not only will you deny me once, but you’ll deny me three times.” And Jesus said it would happen before the rooster was well into his morning.

Good Intentions

The thing is, most of us have good intentions. Whether to read the bible more, attend church more regularly, or to start exercising, the spirit is willing.

I’m not going to cuss and no more throwing my golf clubs; I’m nixing the desserts and I’ll stop saying negative things about anybody. It’s the right idea and a great plan. Jesus looks at us, smiles and says, “Grace to you.” I know this. He continually extends that portion to me.

The Barber’s Son and The Deal

On the main street of our little town, all the businesses were owned by our friends and neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Elliot opened and closed Elliot’s Department store. We purchased our jeans and underwear there. Mr. and Mrs. Hodge operated Hodge’s Grocery Store. He was in the back working as the butcher and she at the counter smiling and saying, “Thank you for coming in.”

We had Evan’s Drugstore, Inman’s Variety Store, Swanda’s Insurance, Lynch’s Western Store, Malone Ford, Kardokus Implements and perhaps the quintessential period piece general store, Levite’s. I can still recall the family names of gas station proprietors. And my favorite spot just a few doors up from Caldwell’s Barber Shop —- George’s Pool Hall. Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Let’s Make a Deal, Pt. 2 →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: Let’s Make A Deal

I suppose it was a Saturday afternoon. It could have easily been a weekday in early summer. Hair clippings clumped around the base of my dad’s barber chair and it was my habit to grab a broom and sweep from time to time. (A habit highly encouraged by my dad).

The barber shop had three, huge store-front windows. They seemed particularly large to an eleven year old who had to clean them. The sunshine across Evans Avenue was long gone. The air was peculiarly static.  Folks outside moved purposefully to their vehicles, casting weary glances at an ominous gathering of clouds.

A storm was coming. It had been a topic of conversation that afternoon in the barber shop.

In Oklahoma, there is often a strange stillness and weightiness to the air before a storm. We have “thunder-boomers” and tornados; it’s not a storm unless it affects you personally. There weren’t sophisticated weather reports and no such things as Doppler radar. We stepped out front to survey the color of the sky, the smell of the air and checked horizons for wall clouds.  It had grown too dark to tell very much, and it was still the middle of the day.

I don’t remember how the storm front arrived; I am very familiar with hundreds of Oklahoma storm fronts since. I do remember looking across the street at the large trees behind the Malone Ford Dealership.  The tops of trees were starting to whip violently. This was turning into the scariest storm of my young life. There was blowing debris, the building creaked, and the windows actually bowed.  I was terrified! Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Let’s Make A Deal →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology: Identify Theft

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"Lady Barber," ~ WW II era, photo curteousy of Carol Pearse

Who are you? The class clown? The jock, the drama girl, the tall guy, the dud with the funny laugh?  He’s the cowboy, she’s the artist. It’s interesting how we identify ourselves and others.

Sometimes our profession becomes our identity.  I am a doctor, a teacher, a plumber, a mechanic, or a zoo keeper.  That’s a good one — Zoo Keeper.

For a part of her life my mom was “the lady barber.” In fact, I was with her just the other day and she referred to herself as a retired barber. I thought it was odd at the time, I mean; she does about a hundred other things really, really well. She is a singer, an artist, a collector, a genealogist, a Sunday school teacher, a mom and she is Grandma.

Back to the “lady barber” moniker – Dad’s shop had two barber chairs and he was particularly busy on Tuesday afternoons and all day Saturday. Mom got her barbers license and went to work on those days. If you called her a hair dresser you would be corrected immediately. She far prefers the title barber. Believe me, she would have no problem setting that record straight. Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Identify Theft →

Barbershop Theology, Man Cave

Barbershop Theology, Part Five: Down on Their Luck

I was sitting in a waiting chair as my dad whisked his barber clippers in short motions at the back of his customer’s neck. Another Saturday in the barbershop, a lazy afternoon of casual greetings, conversations about the weather . . .  I was probably reading a Richie Rich comic book.

The scene is quite clear to me because it was the second such experience of the summer. As the barber shop shoe shine boy I was privy to this man’s world of adult conversations and a wide variety of news and opinions.  This day the door opened, banged back and then opened for a gentleman who as pushing it with a crutch. I’m sure I stared.

He pulled himself into the barbershop and with clarity of speech and standing erect to muster some dignity he declared himself a beggar and would be most appreciative it anyone could help a fella who was ‘down on his luck.’  I stared because the man only had one leg and one arm. The lines etched into his face suggested that life had been hard for him. Very hard.

I’ll never forget my dad’s two questions. First, dad asked him how he had lost his arm and leg.  Without hesitating the fellow said that he had been trying to jump a train and he had ‘miscalculated’ the jump. Bad luck seemed to be the theme of his life, or at least that was his perception and he even conveyed a resigned attitude about it.

Then my dad asked, “Do you drink?” (My dad could cut to the chase like that.) Continue reading Barbershop Theology, Part Five: Down on Their Luck →