Returning from vacation in 1975. by Jajko

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Returning from vacation in 1975.
My name is Adam. When I was little, I regularly went with my father to his old-fashioned barber, where I got a short haircut. Then the boys made fun of me at school, that's why I started crying when my father told me that we were going to the barber. Then my mother stood up for me, my father spoke up, and I went to a modern salon with my mother from the age of 9. When my hair covered my ears and reached over my collar and my bangs reached the tip of my nose, my mother took me to a fashion salon for a little makeover.
In 1975, I was on vacation with Uncle Monty, who had an understanding of long boys' hair, so my hair grew another inch over the vacation. I believed that I would go to school at the beginning of the school year with such long hair.
At the end of the holidays, my father came to Uncle Monty's for me. He didn't like my long hair at all.
I got into the car with my father and we drove home. We were passing through a small town when our car broke down. Father found out where the car repair shop is located. The mechanic said that the repair will take about 2-3 hours.
My father told me that he saw a barber shop on the way and I should use the time while they were fixing the car and go get a haircut. The mechanic confirmed that if I go down the main road after about 15 minutes I will see a Morrison barbershop. I didn't like having to get a haircut, but when I went alone I could tell the barber to just do my hair. My father gave me money for the barber and I obediently left.
From a distance I could see a colored roller indicating a barber shop. When I came closer, I saw an old-fashioned barbershop with the sign Morrison Barbershop hanging over the door. I was hoping the barber shop would be closed. With apprehension, I pushed the door open. I walked into the barber shop, said hello and sat down on the waiting chair. The barber was an elderly gentleman who cut an old man's hair. There were other older men on the waiting chairs.
After about half an hour, when the barber called another one, I knew it was my turn, I carefully got up and moved to his chair. When he wrapped me in a sheet, I was expecting the usual question of how to cut your hair. But the barber asked me how old I was. I answered that 13. Then he asked me who sent me here and if I was new in town. I replied that I was coming back from vacation but that our car broke down, so my father sent me to the barber shop to get a haircut before the school year starts, while the car mechanic fixes the car.
Without asking what kind of haircut I wanted, the barber tilted my head to the left side, lifted the hair on my right temple with a comb, and I felt the cold metal of the scissors. The scissors made a sound and went CLIK-CLIK-CLIK. The scissors went up. About 7 inches of my hair fell onto the sheet and a 1/4 inch long streak of stubble showed on my temple bone. My throat was dry and I couldn't speak. The barber continued to cut the hair around the ear, tilted my head forward and went to the back of my head, finally cutting the hair on the left side of my head. He stopped the scissors, cleaned them and hung them on a hook on the table. He started lifting the hair on the top of my head and started cutting it. I was left with about 1/2 inch long hair which he combed forward and styled bangs high above my eyebrows.
He took a pair of scissors from the hook and with fine thick teeth, bent my head forward and began to cut the stubble, he must have done this on both sides of my head. He made a transition between the stubble and the hair on the top of the head. The barber then applied white cream to the sides and back of the head and began to scrape it off. After finishing scraping the cream, he wiped off the rest of the foam. I turned my head and all I could see was my white skin and about a 1/2 inch wide transition to the top of my head. He applied the smelly liquid to the remaining hair and combed it. The barber said: I hope father will be satisfied with your haircut for the beginning of the school year.
The barber brushed the rest of my hair from the sheet, took a hand mirror and stood behind me to show me the back of my head. I was horrified. She was as bare as my hips. It was my shortest haircut in my life. I can already imagine the ridicule among my classmates.
My father really liked my new hairstyle. After arriving home, I saw that my mother was disappointed that I was without my beautiful long hair.
In the evening, when my parents thought I was sleeping, my mother started blaming my father for giving me such a short haircut. But father told her that he only sent me to get a haircut and I chose the hairstyle myself. According to him, I want to have short hair, I just don't know how to tell my parents. At first I wanted to go to them and say I want long hair but Morrison the barber likes to scalp boys. I didn't want to reveal that I was listening to their conversation behind the door, so I went back to my room and went to sleep.

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