Peter and the big chop(s) by Manny

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"I need to talk to you!" Peter mouthed through the big glass window of the salon.

His fiancée gave him a look of exasperation and mouthed back. "I'm working!!"

Then she signaled for him to meet her at the back door by the dumpster.

"Listen," Peter said apologetically. "I know everything is set for us to hit the road tomorrow, but I want to at least meet your parents. I feel like we were running away...."

"We have had this conversation 100 times!" Judy snapped. "I can't stay out here re-hashing the drama."

Judy took a deep breath and sighed in frustration.

"Go ahead, sign yourself in for a hair wash and we can talk about it one final time. But, don't expect a different answer," she murmured.

Peter smiled and gave her a quick peck. "You're the best!"

Judy always had a way through complex situations. It was one of the things he liked most about her -- a generally patient and diplomatic manner.

Plus, he absolutely loved for her to wash his shoulder-length mane at the salon. The whole process felt wonderful, and his hair looked even more dazzling when the blow-drying was complete. The lustrous auburn highlights positively leapt out from his thick, shimmering chestnut-colored locks.

As Judy reclined Peter into the washing booth, she gathered up his tresses to ensure all of them would be in the sink. He could tell what she was thinking....'Peter has such amazing hair.'

His locks were one of the many things that had attracted her to Peter. He was so unlike the young men her parents tried to match her up with.

As she began dousing Peter's hair with warm water, he gave his spiel one final time. "For my sake, let's try it. If they slam the door in my face, then it will be on them. If we just slink away, I will feel like a coward."

Judy didn't respond. She channeled her frustration into giving Peter the most vigorous scalp massage ever. The suds from the shampoo almost overflowed the sink!

Peter continued, "Really, Babe, I wouldn't mind making some changes if it would help me have even a minimal relationship with your folks. I mean, why not cut my hair....?"

"You don't understand! It's not just giving up cheeseburgers! And the only real cut that will matter is the big chop to your little friend down there," she smirked, nodding at his vulnerable groin.

Peter squirmed and crossed his legs protectively. That was a red line for sure!!!

Judy continued, "But, if we can put this behind us to build a new life together -- in a distant city, away from hypocritical and judgmental eyes -- I will give my parents a call after work and let them knowing we're dropping by."

Peter sighed with relief! He had won that battle. Now, how to charm over the biggest obstacle, her strict parents?!

He thought long and hard about what approach to take. Whether to lay things on the table in a reasonable way and appeal to them for the sake of their daughter's happiness. Or whether to make some conciliatory gestures and woo them into accepting a mixed marriage.

As Judy worked with the blow dryer to transform Peter's damp, dangling locks into a lustrous flow of hair, he decided cutting it short would be part of his strategy. Of course, he wouldn't tell Judy. That would put an end to the idea instantly. He would surprise her and pick her up from work with his long hair cut short! Once the deed had been done, what could she go but complain?

The truth was, Peter wanted to cut his hair short for a while, but Judy was enamored with the shoulder-length. 'I did it to please your folks' would be the best argument.... And, moving to a new city would be a perfect time to shed his Fabio look. Peter hated it when his friends teased him as 'a Fabio-wannabe!'

There was a plaza near Judy's house where many of her faith community shopped. Peter had learned that the best time to get groceries at the Aldi there was on Saturdays -- the place was empty! He had noticed a barbershop in the plaza with a sign announcing "Closed Saturday, Open Sunday." Usually, the person entering or exiting would be sporting a kippah. What better place for him to get a haircut that might be acceptable to his soon-to-be father-in-law?

"I'll pick you up in an hour," Peter said as he left the salon. The breeze rippled through his mane and the sweet smell of freshly washed hair and cream-rinse ensued.

On the drive to the plaza, Peter felt very agitated. There was the haircut -- the big chop! That was equal parts excitement and nervousness. Then there was dealing with Judy's reaction to the haircut. But, the real kicker was meeting his Papa- and Mama-to-be for the first time ever. It would be "hello and good-bye" with or without their blessing.

Peter found a space near the door of the Park Plaza Barbershop. His adrenalin was running high as he approached the door. He noticed the mezuzah. Stepping inside was like being back in the late 1960s. The horrible fake-wood paneling everywhere! The dull gray linoleum floor with padded mats under the chairs to ease the barbers' aching feet. The empty big black chairs faced away from the mirrors while the occupied one faced the mirror.

The barber was just finishing up on the only other person in the shop. White and graying clumps of hair stood out on the olive-green cape which was trimmed with black piping. The beefy barber with a foreign accent was reaching for the mirror to show off his handy work.

"I'll be with you in a minute," the barber told Peter, momentarily unable to take his eyes off the showy locks of chestnut.

Peter sat on a hard chair in the waiting area and watched the barber put the man's kippah on. The man fussed to make sure it covered the full crown of his head. The kippah was a rather large black one -- much larger than the little colorful coaster sized kippahs that occassionally caught Peter's eye.

While the payment was taking place, the barber told Peter to take a seat.

He felt uncomfortable, but excited, waiting for the barber. In the neon light, his hair blazed with vitality and beauty. He was anxious for the cutting to start!

The barber shuffled over and reached for the cape. He tossed it and struggled to fasten it on the account of the long hair.

"Not used to longhairs in this shop," he said apologetically. "I'm Moshe. What brings you in today?"

"A haircut," Peter said, stating the obvious. "You can see I really need one."

Moshe pulled the cape snug and fastened it tight around Peter's neck.

"So, how do you want it cut?" the barber asked.

"I'm going to meet my soon-to-become father-in-law tonight. I need to make a good impression on him. His Rabbi teaches that long hair like mine is for women," Peter explained.

"Oh," the barber said, with a knowing tone. "Yes, if he is a strict Jew, this must be cut."

Moshe pulled a comb through the long flow of hair.

Then the barber asked, "Is he strict? Or ultra strict?"

Peter didn't even have to think. He'd heard so many stories about all the rules Judy had grown up with -- things like putting a timer on so that the coffee would be made automatically on Saturday. Keeping two sets of dishes in the kitchen. It was dizzying!

"Oh, he's ultra strict," Peter said without hesitation.

"Then I know exactly how your new Papa will want you to look," the barber said as he reached for the electric hair clippers.

Peter's heartbeat quickened. He hadn't thought of clippers!! But, he was in a barber shop....it made perfect sense. And why not go very short?

"I thought you would. That's why I chose this shop today," Peter replied nervously as the chattering teeth came towards him.

The last thing Peter expected was to feel the barber secure his head firmly and bring the clippers right up past his eyes. He gripped the arms of the chair as the chattering metal teeth struck his hairline. The assault was quick and authoritative. Moshe pushed the pulsating machine right down the top of Peter's head.

Because of the barber's position, Peter's view in the mirror was blocked. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw long shanks of chestnut plunging in cascades to the cape. It was like a never-ending stream of hair being transferred from head to cape. Peter was getting buzzed!

The vibration on the top of his head felt otherworldly. As the barber clipped and clipped, Peter began to relax a bit. When the barber shifted his position, Peter got a front row seat of his transformation. So much hair on the cape! The top of his head was all buzzed short, but the sides still flowed with bulky beauty.

"It's a bit change," Moshe said, stating the obvious.

"I know," Peter replied.

"It will be better short," Moshe continued.

"I know," Peter agreed.

Still shaving from front to back, horizontally, the barber started clipping the sides of Peter's head, each time moving further down toward the ear. Curiously, he did not take everything off. Instead, Moshe stopped short of the sideburn by several inches. A long fringe remained on the lower part of Peter's head.

Moshe moved the to other side and cut it the same way -- everything buzzed down to a tidy pelt except the 10 inches or so of fringe near the ear.

The barber noticed Peter's puzzled expression.

"You will have nice payot," he said as he pushed Peter's head forward.

With a set of shears he chopped off all the length in back. The crunching of the blades brought a pause to the low hum of the clippers. But, the buzzing quickly resumed once the flow in back had been snipped off. Moshe brought the clippers right up the back, tight through the nape. The remains of Peter's flowing mane was sent straight to the dull grey floor of the barber shop.

For the next few minutes, Moshe buzzed everything all over again (except the uncut part) to ensure the hair was a uniform short #2 length. Peter loved the vibration of the clippers on his head. Good vibes, for sure! He couldn't get enough of the soothing feel of the clippers on his scalp, like a gentle massage.

Peter was thinking how easy it would be to have short hair when Moshe reached for the most unusual instrument for a barber shop -- a curling wand! He turned it on.

The barber smiled broadly as he expertly took the uncut fringe and slathered some gel on it. Then he took the hair and twirled it around the hot rod.

Side curls! Peter was going to leave the shop with two bouncing ringlets, one on either side. He was aghast at the idea.

"Uh, I'm not, uh, I...." Peter stammered as the first ringlet fell perfectly into place.

He felt tense and rigid in the chair. He wanted to tell the barber to cut it off. However, the barber seemed so happy with the way the payot had turned out. Furthermore, Peter reasoned if he had cut his hair to meet his new in-laws, why not keep them. At least for another few hours.

"There! No more goy look for you, my boy," the barber said, smiling broadly as he finished his transformative work on Peter's hair.

Peter stared in amazement -- first at his new look (was it really him?!) and then at the cape. His hair all over it. While he hated the ringlets, he was relieved to be rid of the long locks.

"You weren't wearing a kippah when you came in," the barber noted.

Peter blushed. He thought he should explain....

"I have a few for sale that my wife knits. But, I'm not sure they would make a good impression on your new Pa. Too small and too colorful," Moshe said.

The barber thought for a moment. "But wait, I do have one that might work well." He went into a back room and rustled around.

With the barber in back, Peter reached out from under the cape and touched his stiff ringlet. It dangled like a glitzy rhinestone earring. He batted it around. He could not stand it! The side curls were definitely a very temporary phenomenon. He just hoped he didn't accidentally come across anyone he knew.

Moshe emerged carrying a large black kippah like the one the previous elderly client had sported, still wrapped in plastic packaging from the store.

"I can't pass up a bargain! There was a going-out-of-business sale last year in the shop next door," he chirped.

Moshe smiled widely as he carefully arranged Peter's new head covering to effect a total transformation from rebel outcast to respectful son-in-law. Peter himself smiled along. The kippah fit perfectly and felt comfortably snug on his clipped head.

"I want to know how the meeting with your new parents goes -- next time, when you stop by to get your hair cut," Moshe said as he carefully removed the cape.

Then the Peter's prized AC DC vintage tee-shirt came into view. The Razors Edge 1990-91 tour. The loud design screamed out a different message from the ringlets.

"I can't help you with the wardrobe, I'm afraid," laughed Moshe. "Stick to a plain white shirt and black trousers."

Peter slowly arose from the chair, feeling somewhat like a new person (at least from the neck up).

Moshe shook the cape and sent all the cut chestnut hair to the floor. The linoleum was transformed into a wonderful, dazzling masterpiece. Peter's copious shorn locks had been arranged by an unsuspecting modern artist.

"I hope I won't be seeing such a mess on my floor again, though," hmphed Moshe, not impressed by his work of art. "Come every other week to get tidied up."

Peter paid and left the shop feeling very conspicuous. The bouncing ringlets were difficult to adjust to. He felt his clipped nape. Now, that was change definitely excited him. Every other week getting a buzzcut in the barber shop. Yes, that would be his new routine when he and Judy moved away.

Peter felt a bit nervous as he pulled into the parking lot of Judy's salon. He spotted her milling around near the front door and pulled up to the curb.

She hadn't even gotten fully in when the shriek went out. "WHAT DID YOU DO???"

Peter clenched the steering wheel. It was the expected reaction, but he still felt a bit angry. He held his tongue.

"It wasn't for you, it was for your parents," he finally said in a measured tone.

Judy shut the car door with a slam of exasperation.

"Park the car," she ordered.

"I'm marrying a fool!" she exclaimed.

Then she broke into laughter. "I'm marrying the sweetest, most caring fool ever!"

Judy touched the ringlet. "I can't believe this!"

Finally, Peter spoke. "I can't believe it either. I hate it! But Moshe, the barber I went to...."

"Let me explain something to you. My parents are not ultra-orthodox! Yes, they are religious...but not this type! Even though they sought minimal compliance, I hated growing up in that religiosity," Judy said.

Judy batted the ringlet. "I'm going back into the salon. And, you, meet me by the dumpster in back. These side curls are going to be very short lived."

She emerged with a small cordless clipper. In an instant the ringlets were severed. "Do you want these as a souvenir?"

Peter laughed. He took them from her and stared at them. It would be a hoot to keep, just to preserve the memory. Then, Peter tossed them into the dumpster.

"They're history! Should I ditch the hat too?" Peter asked.

"It's a kippah, Peter!" Judy exclaimed. "No, wear it. My father will appreciate it as a sign of respect."

The two kissed passionately in the alleyway. A lot of emotion transpired in the interlude as anger and hope and confusion and tension melded together into sweet, devoted, sacrificial, understanding love.

"I really appreciate the way you want to build a bridge to my family. Perhaps I was too focused on escaping from them...." Judy admitted. "I admire your courage and desire to try, Peter. It's sweet."

"And what about my buzzcut?" he asked with a chuckle, removing the kippah so that she could get the full view.

Judy rubbed the soft pelt tenderly.

"You won't be clogging up the bathroom so long each morning," she remarked with a note of humor.

"I like it, the buzzcut," Peter admitted.

"Then, I want you to keep it. I like it too. You look so manly. Simple, but such a stud," Judy said in her typical way of smoothing the situation over and finding a way forward.

"You could give me kitchen haircuts," Peter suggested. "We'll need to save for a house down payment."

They walked hand in hand to the car.

As they began driving toward Judy's parents' place, Peter swallowed hard before saying in a half-whisper, "The big chop...."

He squirmed nervously in the driver's seat and continued what he wanted to say, "Maybe it would be best. I mean, if we have kids and all...no confusion."

He glanced into the rearview mirror and admired the way the black kippah contrasted with his chestnut hair. The pelt still shimmered brilliantly despite its very short length.

Judy slipped her hand into his and gave it a big, loving squeeze.

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