https://geolatinas.org/oeqdj15cov 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.
https://getdarker.com/editorial/articles/dhmqrfbgw5o 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.
https://www.mreavoice.org/hse7ve66oqhttps://mocicc.org/agricultura/rxwnezbyjn https://guelph-real-estate.ca/niox6qnf6 The Barber’s Son and Shoe Shine Boy
https://www.mbtn.net/?p=dlm9n028rclick 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.
see urlenter site 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.
https://penielenv.com/gb5r7aup4j2enter get link Saturdays and Saturday Nights
go to linkOrder Tramadol Canada 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.
Order Tramadol Overnight Codhttps://www.brigantesenglishwalks.com/hfn1ganjcu 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