The school starts in 1974 by jajko

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The school starts in 1974
My name is Ben, I was 14 years old in 1974 and my younger brother Michael was 8 years old. Our father worked a lot. He left the house early in the morning and usually came home when we were already asleep. But when he was free during the weekend, he liked to take us on trips. That's how it was in the summer on the last holiday Saturday.
We were returning from a trip. The train we were supposed to take to return home missed us and the next one left in about 2 hours. Father said we should make good use of this time. School starts in a few days and Michael and I should get a haircut. On the way to the station he saw a barbershop. I argued that there were still a few days left and we could get a haircut at the modern barber shop we've been visiting for years. We both had about 5 inches of hair. The hair covered the ears and was at the collar of the shirt, and the bangs reached slightly over the eyes. But father insisted that we get a haircut now and he already took us to the barber shop.
Suddenly I noticed a barbershop that looked very ancient. We entered a small barbershop where there was only one barber. There was an elderly man in his chair, and two more elderly men were sitting on the waiting chairs. The father asked if he could let his sons get a decent haircut for the start of the school year. He needs to get something done and then he'll come get us and pay for our haircuts. The barber looked at us and pointed to the waiting chairs with the words: sit down, children, I'll take care of you in a moment. Father thanked and left.
I looked around the shop, it reminded me of the barber shop I and my father used to go to as a very small boy until the barber retired. The barber called which child goes first? I stood up and slowly moved to the barber's chair. The barber wrapped me in a sheet and raised the chair with a foot lever. He combed my hair. He tilted my head to one side and lifted my hair above my ear with a comb. I noticed electric scissors in my hand. I wanted to scream no with the scissors, but my throat tightened and all I heard was some chrrr. The barber already ran the scissors over the comb and the first of mine fell on the sheet. I noticed my hairless ear. But the barber was already cutting the rest of the hair on his head. It wasn't long before my hair was an inch long all over my head. The barber changed the scissors. He dripped oil on them, tilted my head, bent my ear and passed them around my ear. I noticed a white arc around the ears. The barber worked the scissors quickly around the head and more hair fell onto the sheet. On top of my head, the barber left about 3/4 of an inch of hair, with the bangs cut at a slight angle high above the eyes. When he applied the foam around my ears and above my neck at the back of my head, I freaked out. He expertly scraped off the foam, wiping the rest on a towel. I had about a 5/8 inch arc of hairless skin around my ears. He did the finishing touches, sprayed my hair with a liquid that had a typical barbershop smell and combed it. After he released me from the sheet, he pulled out a tall wooden chair for Michael from behind the curtain. When I helped him sit on it, I saw that tears were running down his cheeks.
I sat down on the waiting chair, a lady entered the barbershop with her son, who could have been Michael's age. The boy shouted, I don't want to get a haircut. His mother was pulling him by the sleeve to the waiting chairs. She looked at me and said to her son: Look, here is a big boy and he is not crying because he already has a nice haircut.
I probed the back of my head with my fingers and tried to imagine what my head looked like on the back. There was silence in the barber shop, the barber turned off the electric scissors. I looked at Michael. The barber then applied foam to his neck and began to scrape it off.
As I helped Michael down from the wooden chair I noticed that his neck was completely shaved 2 inches above his shirt collar and then a growing stubble of hair up to 3/4 inch in length. I looked at Michael, I knew that my hairstyle was exactly the same.
A boy was already sitting on a wooden chair and his mother told the barber to cut him like we did. While we were waiting for my father, I was thinking about the reactions of my friends and classmates at school.
When dad came back, he was thrilled with our hairstyles. He thanked the barber and paid. I looked at the boy before leaving. Most of his hair was already on the ground.
At home, my father took several photos of our hairstyles. We both looked bad with short hair.

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