Tag Archives: lady barber

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: 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 →