Reflection: Haircuts

Lily's hair got shorter and shorter during the year; she started by donating her pony tail in Minnesota!

In Melbourne in January her hair got a lot shorter. Also, check out those freckles!

The hair on my head has been getting scarcer for at least 20 years. Every haircut I've gotten in the last fifteen has been shorter than the one before it. For the last ten years I've been giving myself buzz cuts in the mirror, trusting Elise to tell me when I've missed a spot. Every few years the guard on the clippers has gotten smaller.

During this time, I've missed barbershops and their casual banter. Elise once gave me a gift certificate to a place where I got a buzz, a beer, plus a hand and face massage but no chatter. I went to a place in our neighborhood and paid $30 for a buzz and a can of hipster beer but I was definitely too old and square to earn a conversation. Besides, even if I took a trim every two weeks (I prefer weekly), that would be an expensive habit.

As our trip approached I merged two ideas. First, I'd take the next (and final) logical step in my haircare evolution: the razor. Second, I'd try to visit barbers in every country on our itinerary. I wasn't sure how many ways I'd be able to make a human connection abroad but I was sure that if I was paying to sit in the chair, I'd get at least twenty or thirty minutes of somebody's attention!

These are pictures that went on our Instagram feed as the trip went along. I've discovered, as I prepared this post, that I rarely mentioned them in the blog. I thought this was going to be a "greatest hits" compilation post but some of these stories might actually be news.  Anyway, here's a recap of those moments, while the memories (good and bad) still exist in my mind.

Part 1: In the United States

Everybody has to have a first, right? Mine was at Elmers on Broadway, which has been in business in Portland for over 100 years! Jeramy is a part time mixed martial arts athlete who explained all of his choices in razor blade, towel technique and everything else. I described the trip we were about to take and my hopes of meeting many barbers.

June 6, 2019 in Portland, Oregon.

The first time I got my hair cut on the road was in Oak Harbor, Washington, where we spent a week on Whidbey Island gazing out at tranquil Puget Sound. This haircut was raucous and I remember it as if it was yesterday. My barber, Charles III aka C'bo had just finished telling me about his father when Charles Jr appeared. C'bo served in the Army (big flag on the ceiling for me to look at while reclined in his chair) and he laughed about working in a town that mostly serves a Naval Air base. It even got a little mention in one of the blog's first posts.

My treatment on June 27th in Oak Harbor, WA was called "Full Grown Man"

Next was a catastrophic failure that was impulsive and entirely my own fault. We were in Minnesota, where we spent about two months of the summer (of 2019) and we had a night away from our kids thanks to Elise's parents. We checked into a hotel and had spa treatments. Foolishly, I looked at the disposable razors on the counter in the men's lounge and thought it was a good time (rushed) and place (bad light, cheap razor, lousy cream, a sink that didn't hold water that wasn't hot to begin with) to shave my own head. It wasn't the first time I had tried this but I definitely hadn't developed the skill very far. As you can see.

I have only myself to blame for this. July 17 in Tofte, MN.

This was followed by a dark spell. We spent two weeks in a little town in northern Wisconsin and I utterly failed to find a chair. Even on visits to larger places, like Bayfield and Hayward, I couldn't find a place or I couldn't find the confidence to step into one if I did see it. Finally, in early August in Duluth, I was able to ask for advice and this led me to my first haircut in a barber shop with wall-mounted taxidermy. The conversation was mostly about the challenge of a young barber establishing himself in an old shop and I was fascinated.

August 5 in Lakeside (Duluth) Minnesota.

Later that month we were back in Portland, without kids, and working feverishly to prepare ourselves for two months in an RV. To compensate for long hours and big stress, we tried to pamper ourselves. I had my first shave that was totally enjoyable and completely worthless. My barber was a great storyteller. He caught me up on everything that was going on in our hometown as well as a wide variety of stories about his life traveling to EDM festivals. It was the kind of experience that is nearly unique, for me, to barbershops: the chance to talk to somebody whose life is so different from mine, to listen to their story and perspective, and expand my own in the process. Too bad I had to shave my scalp the next day to make it smooth and consistent enough!

August 15 back in Portland, Oregon

This was followed by a drive across the country in our rented RV. I was disappointed to miss any haircuts along the way but we were covering as much ground as we could to reach Acadia National Park by Labor Day, despite some serious problems with the rig. There were several "self cuts" in there but only one that was worth documenting:

Self-cut in York, ME on September 4th. Accessories by Ali.

The next haircut was a truly memorable experience: two generations of Maklers (Henry and myself) sitting side by side in the hands of a father. We were in Boston's North End, a traditional Little Italy, and the father had just enough English to tell us that he had been cutting hair here for 50 years. Henry was so proud of his dapper do!

Jon and Henry with Gaetano and Rocco Lo Grasso in Boston's North End

Next was the funniest haircut of the trip. We were in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, visiting my family (and getting the RV more completely repaired). I enlisted by 15 year old nephew to do the honors. It was the first time he had wielded a razor but he got into it quickly and did a great job.

Cameron Tyson's first shave

Next stop (for my scalp) was Birmingham, Alabama. We had visited the National Civil Rights Museum before lunch and as soon as we had finished lunch - in the RV in a deserted parking lot - I found a barbershop nearby and brought Lily with me. This landed me in the chair of a foot solider from the civil rights movement who shared stories while he shaved me and then took us next door to see the headquarters of a nonprofit that advocates for and educates about the ongoing struggle for social justice. Given my desire for the history we were seeing to have more depth than a museum exhibit, this experience was an unexpected blessing. You can read more about our visit to Birmingham.

James, Lily and Jon in Birmingham's Magic City Barbershop

About a week later we were in Austin, Texas and Google led me to a shopping center setting. All I can remember was ear splitting music and a total lack of conversation. Fortunately the haircut was good because the experience was totally not worth the effort. It was one of the first times that I realized sitting in a chair was not a guarantee of the connection I was seeking. Also, it was such a huge contrast to the miracle of the Magic City Barber Shop the week before.

My deafening haircut with May in Austin, Texas

After weeks of asking and waiting, Lily finally got her chance. She liked what she saw when her cousin Cameron shaved my head. So it was that in a hotel room inside Mesa Verde National Park that my daughter became my barber. Lily is such a careful person and her fine motor skills have been so well honed by countless hours of drawing and painting; I was sure she would do great and she did. Then she was so proud of herself for doing it!

Lily's turn came in Mesa Verde, Colorado.

Next up: suburban California. We spent a few nights with my immediate family in the Bay Area. We celebrated my grandfather's 99th birthday! Plus, Henry and I walked to a shopping center to get haircuts. What I remember here was the barber teasing me for going abroad to give our kids a cultural experience. Why go further than California, she asked! I didn't have a quick answer and I still don't.

Me and The Dude got our haircut while visiting my family in in Los Altos, CA in late October.

That leaves time for only one more haircut before we left the United States. Back in Portland for about a week, I couldn't get an appointment with Jeramy (my first!) but I was able to walk into another local shop and sit in the chair of Jorge. He thought I was absolutely crazy for traveling with four kids and/but gave me a really nice haircut to send me on my way.

Last haircut in the US was with Jorge in Portland.

Part 2: Abroad
Navigating Buenos Aires was much harder than we expected. I wrote a lot in this blog about the language barrier and there were other challenges: it took us a few days to figure out how to withdraw cash from an ATM. Whereas we rely heavily on Google for accurate information in the US, we found it incomplete and inconsistent in Argentina (although once we picked a destination, the navigation was spot on). Put these together and I had to learn the difference between a pelaquaria and a barberia before I could hunt for a haircut. We had passed quite a few while walking around our neighborhood so, eventually, Henry and I went out to see what we could find. In short order (about two blocks away), we found a place. Did they speak English? No, not really. But Google translate made it possible for me to give the parameters of Henry's haircut.

Henry's bilinguual (or alingual) haircut in Buenos Aires in November 2019

But for myself, I aimed too high. I made up my mind, foolishly, that the point was to have a conversation, which would have to be in English. I under-appreciated, at that stage of the trip, that it would be meaningful simply to be in a place. I really regret it, too. I completely missed out on a memory, although Henry and I did have some quality time walking around in circles that day, trying to find all the barberias!

The rest of our time in Argentina (and Uruguay and Chile) went by and I never found a barbershop. I gave myself quite a few haircuts in memorable places but there are no pictures to prove it. Maybe I should have taken pictures of each sink! On the up side, Elise noted that I was getting better at this job. Mostly, after that harrowing experience in Minnesota, I learned to listen for a clean shave to know I had covered an area. A few other tricks, too, but surprisingly my sense of sound is one of the most valuable when I shave my own head!

A few weeks and one big plane ride later we were in Australia on the "Gold Coast" south of Brisbane and a town called Byron Bay. It was nearing the start of school holidays and the barber shops were pretty busy with guys getting ready to look good for Christmas, I guess. I had to make an appointment. The conversation was spectacular! The guy was just a few years in the profession and he was telling me all about living in this touristy area where wages are low and the cost of living is high. Of course all the people who work in the town can't afford to live there so traffic is lousy. He apologized for giving me a nick or two but it wasn't until later that I realized he had nearly lacerated my entire scalp!

My terrible but thoroughly enjoyable haircut in Byron Bay, Australia in December 2019.

But from the lowest low to the highest high, this brings us to Melbourne at the start of 2020. We lived a few blocks off a commercial strip in a beach neighborhood called St. Kilda. These two weeks were the most embedded of any stop on our trip. We got to know our landlady really well because she lived downstairs but her puppy, Lucy, appeared in our flat on a regular basis (to our delight). Also, we walked past Oscar's Barbershop at least once a day. After our first visit, we were on firstname basis with the staff and the kids pleaded to run ahead so that they could go inside and see their friends (and ask for lollipops). Henry was dubbed "motormouth" for his conversation style. It was so delightful and fulfilling to make friends and have conversations that grew from day to day. I really loved this place (Oscar's and Melbourne).

Our crew at Oscar's Barbershop in Melbourne, January 2020.

Is it possible to top that story? Yes it is. In the remaining 3+ months of the trip, I looked for a shop. In towns all around New Zealand, the timing never worked. Even in Christchurch where I was just wandering on my own for an afternoon! We spent a week in Singapore and I don't remember seeing a barbershop and Google was no help. Once, in Ho Chi Minh City, I saw a barber on a sidewalk shaving a man's neck. It was such a crazy thing to see but it was 100 degrees and the kids were melting so we barely had enough time for walking to whatever meager destination we had picked.

But in Hanoi, I spotted another sidewalk barber. This guy was on a corner. There was a barber chair - a legit, raise-and-lower, recline, removable head rest barber chair - in the middle of the sidewalk. There was a mirror hung from the wall (the outside of a pharmacy). There was a heated shaving cream dispenser on the saddle of a scooter, plugged into who-knows-what. He barked at me and beckoned but we were walking with the kids. I said I'd come back (and I meant it).

And so it came to pass that I got a shave in a chair on a street corner in Hanoi, Vietnam. The guy spoke excellent English. He regaled me with stories of prostitutes in Thailand. He explained the advantages of paying the police to let him operate in this spot relative to renting a brick and mortar place. We were interrupted once by a tourist - an American wearing the hat of my hometown NFL team who lives about two miles from where I grew up - who asked if he could take a picture of my haircut in process.  The experience was exactly what I dreamed of and this picture seems to capture it perfectly.

Hanoi Haircut in March 2020.

In reflection, the immediate regret I felt in places like Argentina has grown into remorse. I missed so many opportunities to sit in barber chairs around the world and mainly because I lacked courage to enter and I was too much of a snob about speaking in English. I wish I had been able to see that to sit in the chair, even silently, would have been wonderful. But the friends in Melbourne, this smile in Hanoi and even the Byron Bay massacre, are all terrific memories from our time abroad.

Thanks for listening.