The Haircut Story Site

Neighbor: Part 1 by Jajko

When I was 13, it was in 1974, both of my parents went on a business trip for 10 weeks. I had to go to school, so a neighbor called Michael called me that I could live with him, because he was already retired and had enough free time.
Before leaving, my mother stressed that I should listen to my neighbor Michael as if I were his son. After my parents left, my neighbor told me how he had been an educator at a nearby inmate institution for 35 years. He told me stories about inmates every night. Every day after school I had to inform him what we were learning and in the evening he tested me from the curriculum what I should have known the next day. On Friday evening he told me that we would go to the barber on Saturday. I objected that I was only less than two months ago and my hair was just covering my ears and my shirt collar. He looked at me sternly and said that his sons went to the barber every 3 weeks and now he takes me as his own son. I didn't sleep well all night and I thought about which barber shop in the city my neighbor Michael would take my haircut. We had 3 modern and 2 ancient barbershops.
On Saturday around 10 o'clock he told me to wait for him by the car. We were quiet all the way until we were slowly leaving the city and I was not allowed to ask where we were going. After all, to the barber, as my sons went. Suddenly we parked at the Educational Institute and we got out of the car. Upon entering the institution, a neighbor greeted an older gentleman and introduced me to being a neighbor and now cares for me as his own son. We approached a low building in front of which inmates stood in several crowds.
We entered the building and neighbor Michael showed me the door to go to when I was cut. There was a Director's sign on the door. We continued down the hall, the sound of scissors being heard from the open door. There were inmates behind the room waiting to be cut, whose hair was only about 3/8 inch long, and hairless inmates were cut by the wall.
Neighbors greeted with a barber who was about 70 years old. He asked him if I was his granddaughter. A neighbor then introduced me and said that I had come to get an exemplary boyish hairstyle. The barber asked him what number, the neighbor replied: # 1.5. I didn't know what they were talking about. Meanwhile, as they talked, the barber finished cutting the inmate, who began sweeping around the barber's chair. The barber offered me his chair and the neighbor said goodbye to him and left. He combed my hair as he wrapped me in a white sheet with black stripes. He took the electric shears with which he cut the inmates, cleaned them with a brush. He turned his chair away from the mirror. He approached me and tilted my head with his left hand. He put the scissors on his forehead. I felt cold metal on my forehead and knives copying the surface of my head. Knives opened and closed, opened and closed. I didn't see how short or falling hair was. I felt a tightness in my stomach and was nervous. The barber, meanwhile, tilted my head to the left and felt the teeth of the blades above my right cheek. Gradually, my head tilted forward and I saw hair falling about 6-7 inches long. I knew it would be a short haircut. When he had finished cutting, he cut the scissors and continued to style the hair around the ears around his neck. When he turned me to the mirror I saw there an unknown boy with a small head with hair about 1/8 inch. I wanted to cry but I was ashamed in front of the other inmates. When the barber tore off my sail and I jumped out of my chair, I jumped without a word and went after my neighbor to the office, where they drank coffee with the director. They both praised my hair and before I left, the director told me to come for the future. In the car, I started shouting at my neighbor that I looked like a convict and shuffled my head, the stubble gently scratching my palms.
For my behavior in the car, I earned a spanking with a cane on my ass by my neighbor Michael. I have never had such a short haircut even as a small child and at school I got a shower of ridicule from my classmates.

Comments
Mir, als Leser hat diese Geschichte super gut gefallen.
Der Nachbar im Ruhestand, ist eben ein erfahrener, älterer Herr, der großen Wert auf Disziplin, gutes Benehmen und auf ein ordentlichen kurz geschorenden Haarschnitt legt, der für einen Jungen mit 13 Jahren auch genau das Richtige ist. Auch das der Lehrplan des Jungen täglich überprüft wurde ist gut und O.K.
Für das respektlose anschreien des Nachbarn im Auto nach dem Haarschnitt, war die Tracht Prügel mehr als verdient.
Vielen Dank für die schöne Geschichte.
Ein dritter Teil wäre super, in dem der Nachbar den Jungen gutes Benehmen, älteren gegenüber beibringt, den Jungen nach seinen Geschmack einkleidet wie früher seine erwachsende Söhne und alle 14 Tage den Jungen zu dem Friseur fährt zum nachscheren.
Zu der Bemerkung von M De Marlo.
Die Insassen sind sicher keine Schwerverbrecher, oder Killer, eher straffällige geworden Jugendliche, wie Ladendiebe zum Beispiel, die eine erzieherische Jugendstrafe bekommen haben.

by Kurzhaarfeund on 21 Jun 2020
Probably not, in ‘74 at what was likely a minimal security facility, seeing as it was just out of town. Seems like it would most likely be kind of a county jail house. Also although not mentioned I believe what they were trying to describe would be more like a reform school, based on the the author calling it an education institution. Could be wrong though
by Riv on 21 Jun 2020
Im surprised that you were allowed within such close contact with inmates. Putting you in danger of being taken hostage from an inmate wanting release. Security reasons would have kept a barrier of either bars or some type of plexiglass between you and inmates.
by M DeMarlo on 20 Jun 2020