Great-Uncle Harvey Part I by Just_Me

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I was driving in a heavy east Texas rain storm, and the "swish-swish" of my windshield wipers was about to put me into a trance. I couldn’t stop focusing on the movement. My eyes followed the wipers, and the sound was hypnotizing me. I thought, "Dumbass, get your mind off of it! Think about something else."

Thoughts of my Great-Uncle Harvey popped into my headâ€"probably because I was on my way to see him. In my heart, he was my grandfather. He had helped raise my mother, and he doted on me like grandparents do with beloved grandchildren. He had always been a part of my life, and every six months he’d spend two weeks with us. The memories of his visits were some of my favorite childhood memories. I thought, "I wish he could still come see us like he used to. Getting old must really suck, just like this long-assed drive sucks. I hope I die before I get feeble."

I chastised myself. "Uncle Harvey is worth the drive, and you only do it every three months. In fact, it wouldn’t hurt you to go see him more often. You know he loves it that you’ll make a six-hour drive just to see him." I kept thinking. "Uncle Harvey is a prime example of the type of man you want to be." I mused, "He's a curious mix of outspoken gruffness and incredible kindness." I thought about that for a second. "You’re right, he’s an odd mixture, but you know there’s not another man you’d rather be like."

I checked my watch. I thought, "Perfect timing, Curtis. It looks like you’re going to get there just about the time Uncle Harvey gets home from the barbershop."

I began to muse. "I wonder why it thrills me so much to see him right after he gets back from the barber shop? He always has short hair, why does the little bit he gets cut off every week intrigue me?" I shook my head. "I must be a little strange. No one I know likes short hair, but it really turns me on."

I shook my head. "Face it, dipstick. You’re more than a little strange. You’re a whole helluva lot of plain old weird!"

I grinned at myself. "Dipstick, strange, weird or not, I like the way Uncle Harvey’s hair looks. I wish I had been born when I could have worn my hair like he does."

My next thought scared me. "Well, you could wear your hair like he does, you would just look like a dweeb." I shook my head. "There ain’t no way! I just couldn’t pull the look off. Besides, I’d be the only man on the planet under the age of seventy who has a short back and sides." I laughed when I thought, "There’s not many men over the age of seventy who still wear what Uncle Harvey calls ‘a real man’s haircut’." (I knew. I was constantly on the lookout for a man with short hair, and sometimes it would be months between sightings. I don’t think I ever missed a man with a flattop, buzz cut or short back and sides.)

Images of Uncle Harvey flooded my mind. He always looked the same. He wore crisply starched green Dickies work uniforms, seven days a week, whether he was going to a wedding, funeral or the barber shop. I grinned, remembering the time Uncle Harvey had showed me where he kept the uniform he wanted to be buried in. "Son, I’m trusting you to make sure I’m buried in these clothes. I know your mother is gonna try to put me in a suit, because she thinks it’s the proper thing to do. Don’t you let her, no matter what kind of hissy fit she throws." He shuddered. "I don’t wanna lay there for time and all eternity in a damned suit. The idea gives me the chills."

He pointed at me. "I’ll come back and haunt you for the rest of your days if you let her get by with it." He made some weird ghost sounds, and waved his hands around like he was a ghost.

Old-fashioned, horn-rimmed glasses were always perched on his nose, and if he was outside he had on some type of hat. (He never wore them indoors, but if he walked out the door, he grabbed a hat.) The only time I saw him without a bent pipe in his hand or mouth was when he was eating. His pipe was such a part of him that he didn’t look natural without it.

Thinking about his pipe made me reach for mine. Yes, I was a pipe smoker too, but I only smoked on the sly. I couldn’t imagine having enough nerve to be like Uncle Harvey, and smoke in public.

I went into my fantasy mode, and don’t think I saw a thing I was passing. In my mind’s eye, I had stepped into a time machine, and came out of it in the late 1940’s. I imagined lighting my pipe, and stepping into an old-fashioned barber shop. I could see what the barber looked like. He was in his late sixties, grey and balding, and what little hair he had was peeled really short. He had a white barber’s tunic on, with scissors and a comb sticking out of the pocket. Black dress pants and black dress shoes finished off his ensemble.

Fantasies of the look the barber gave me when he saw my extra long hair darted around in my head. Each image excited me. I could imagine him shivering in revulsion, and saying, "What kind of haircut is that? I hope to god you’re here to get a real haircut. God knows you need it."

In my imagination, the barber turned to the barber next to him, "Hal, this one’s mine. I’m gonna make this sissy look like a real man."

Hal said, "I might have to wrestle you for this one, Vern. I’d give my eye teeth to get my clippers in that mess." He looked at me. "I can’t even tell if you’re a man with long hair, or a woman with a goatee." He shook his head. "I’ve never seen such a thing. A man with long hair like that is a disgrace."

I exhaled a cloud of fragrant pipe smoke toward Hal, and said, "I can promise you that I am a man."

I kept my imaginary scenario going. I said to Hal, "I am a man, but a man from 1984. This is what men look like in the future."

Vern turned pale, and crossed himself. "Holy, Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now! If this is what men are going to look like, I don’t want to live long enough to see it."

Hal said, "Hell, we’re so old we won’t live long enough to see that happen." He looked up and crossed himself. "Please God!" Then he looked at Vern. "I’m with you, Vern. I don’t wanna see it. Seeing this bastard is bad enough to almost put me in my grave."

He shook his head. "What in the hell would make people think a man looks good with long hair?" He looked at me. "You’re not in 1984 any more. You’re in 1947. Either sit your ass down, and let me make you look like a man’s supposed to, or get back to the future."

I just looked at him. He took a cape and wiped the chair down. "I said, either sit your ass down, or get the hell out of here."

I thought I’d throw a little Eighties jargon at him. "Take a chill pill, Dude. I’m on my way."

The barbers looked at each other. Vern said, "What the hell does that mean?"

I started walking toward the chair, wondering what I would look like after the barber got through with me.

I sat in the chair Hal had just brushed off. Vern picked up a pair of old-fashioned hand clippers. "Hal, you’re not going to be the only one to get to have fun with this one. I’ll do this side, and you can do the other. We’ll flip a coin to see who gets to finish it off."

I was jarred back into reality when I heard a diesel horn blaring in my ears. I guess I had gotten lost in my fantasy, and veered into the path of an eighteen-wheeler. I shook my head and said, "You damned idiot! You’d better pay attention, or you’re going to get yourself killed."

Just as I crossed into Arkansas, the rain stopped. It was like magic. I turned the wipers off, and thought, "OK. Keep your eye on the ball now. You don’t have to worry about the wipers putting you in a trance now."

Despite the absence of the wipers, I quickly slipped back into my reverie. I imagined what Uncle Harvey looked like. His hair was still exactly like he wore in WWII—and before. I knew from family pictures that even as a teenager he had worn his hair peeled high on the sides and back, with a razor-sharp part on the left side, and the hair on the top combed severely back. He always put on enough Brylcreem (or some kind of hair tonic) to make every tooth mark of the comb perfectly visible, and his thick grey hair shone beautifully.

I shook my head and thought, "I can’t imagine having the same haircut for at least sixty years!"

I started thinking about all the hairstyles I had worn through the years: I knew from pictures that I got my first haircut on my first birthday, when a barber buzzed off all my curls, and I wore a buzz cut for a few years. By the time I was three, I had a little boy’s haircut, and wore that until the summer of 1966 (I was eight). For some reason Dad gave me a flattop. I wore it for just a few months, and went back to a little boy’s haircut. My parents started letting my hair growâ€"I’ve never known why. I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for it. Anyway, by the time I got to fifth grade, my hair was completely covering my ears. I was the first boy in my class to get to let his hair grow over his ears.

I laughed when I remembered the fit Uncle Harvey had the first time he saw me after my hair started growing. He really gave Mom and Dad hell over it. I didn’t remember everything he said, but I did remember him saying, "Marie and William, if I didn’t know no better, I’d think you’ve been smoking some of that wacky weed I’ve been hearing about on the news. Have you lost your senses? If you had the sense God gave a goose, you’d let me take that boy to the barbershop, and get him a decent haircut."

Mom’s hackles raised. She pointed her finger at him, and screamed, "Harvey Parker, this is my son, and I’ll raise him the way I damn well please. Get your nose out of my business, or get the hell out of my house."

I started counting. "Damn! It’s been sixteen years since you’ve had a decent haircut. Maybe it’s time to try a different look. If you keep it up, you’ll catch up with Uncle Harvey, and have been wearing this hairstyle for sixty years."

The idea of dealing with my long hair for sixty years shook me. "There ain’t no way I’m going to spend sixty years combing and blow drying this mess."

I looked at the mirror and thought about my latest haircut. Jonie, the girl who cut my hair, had tried to talk me into a mullet. I thought about it, but in the end, I wasn’t ready to lose my long hair. I told her to take off about an inch, and left the salon without a mullet.

I couldn’t decide if I had done the right thing or not. I knew mullets were all the rage, but just didn’t feel like it was me. (By the way, I know the term "mullet" was not applied to this particular hairstyle until several years later, but I used the term for clarity.)

I went back to thinking about Uncle Harvey’s hair. "I can see why he’s kept the same style. There’s something classic about it…at least to me."

I remembered a promise I had made to myself when I was just a kid. I distinctly remembered lying in bed one night and whispering, "I solemnly swear that some day I’ll be brave enough to get my hair cut like Uncle Harvey."

I shook my head. "Curtis, you ain’t keeping that promise any time soon."

Then I stepped into another fantasy. I imagined some time in the future, being old and having a long, flowing head of grey hair and an equally long beard like a wizard and going into a barbershop with a picture of Uncle Harvey, and saying, "I want my hair just like this."

It felt like a punch in the gut when I thought, "If things keep going like they are, there won’t be a barber alive who’ll know how to do a short back and sides by the time you get old and grey. If you’re going to do it, you can’t wait that long. All the real barbers are already getting old."

I pushed that thought aside, not wanting to deal with that reality.

Eventually the fantasies faded out of my mind, and I was able to focus on driving.

I finally got to Uncle Harvey’s and he was sitting on his porch…and he didn’t have a fresh haircut. I was crushed.

I got out of the truck and blurted out, without thinking, "Uncle Harvey, is something wrong? Are you OK?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Of course I’m ok. Why would you think I wasn’t?"

"I thought today was haircut day, and you’ve got peach fuzz on your head." I joked with him. You’d better be careful, or I’m going to start calling you a hippy."

"I’ve got a long way to go before you can call me a hippy. You, on the other hand, still look like a damned hippy." He stepped closer, "Come here and give me a hug, you long-haired loser!"

After we hugged, I said, "I thought you’d be proud of me. I just had more than an inch cut off."

"I’d be a helluva lot happier with you if I could see your ears and neck, you damned hippy."

Uncle Harvey ruffled my hair. "Well, I can’t say I’m a fan of your hair, but I know you’d make a decent looking young man if you’d just whack this mess off."

I laughed. "You never stop, do you?"

He grinned. "You could stop all my hippy comments by going to the barbershop with me. I couldn’t pick on you if you had a real man’s haircut."

Then he said, "To answer your question, I’ll be going to see Walt this afternoon. He wasn’t open this morning. He had a doctor’s appointment."

"Oh, that explains it. I thought hell had frozen over when I saw you on a Wednesday morning without a fresh haircut."

"We could make hell freeze over if you’d go with me this afternoon."

Without thinking, I said, "As much as I might want to, I can’t get a haircut like yours."

His next question stopped me in my tracks. He simply said, "Why not?"

All I could think to say was, "Why not what?"

He punched my shoulder. "Quit being a damned idiot. Why can’t you get a haircut like mine?"

I thought, "He’s right. Why not? Why can’t I do what I want?"

His next comment knocked me for a loop. "I’ve known for a long time that you’re fascinated by my haircut. Hell, I couldn’t count the number of times I knew you wanted to ask me to take you to the barbershop with me." He looked at me, "Didn’t you?"

"How in the hell did you know that?"

A smirk passed over his face. "Son, you always looked at me like a dog looks at steak. It didn’t take a whole lot of smarts to figure out what you were hankering for."

I grinned. "I’ll be damned. I never dreamed you knew that."

"I always knew what you wanted, and I really wanted to help you out, but couldn’t figure out how to do it. After I mentioned getting your hair cut that one time, I knew what your mother would say, and I figured I’d save us both a heap and a passel of trouble by not bringing it up." He shook his head. "I might’ve helped raise Marie, but honestly, I’m a little scared of her temper. I suspect she’s crazier than a loon."

"Well, I can’t deny that. She definitely would’ve made us both miserable, because it didn’t fit it with her idea of what’s appropriate."

"Hell, she still gives me fits over my hair, and she ain’t got no right to say a word to me about it. I can only imagine what she would’ve done to you." He kept talking. "I’ve been waiting for you to grow up, so I could talk to you about it, and since you brought up haircuts today, I reckoned the time was right."

I sat in silence for a minute, thinking about what he had said.

He broke my reverie. "What do you think about it?"

I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. "What do I think about what?"

He laughed. "Hmm…were we talking about the price of tea in China?"

"No, sir."

"As I remember it, we were talking about haircuts, specifically a haircut for you. What do you think about getting a real haircut? It wouldn’t have to be as short as mine, but I definitely wouldn’t complain if you told Walt to make you look like me."

A dam in me broke, and tears started flowing, while words poured out of my mouth. "I don’t know what to say. You’re right. I’ve always wanted to look like you…or at least since I was about eight. Hell, I’ve even dreamed about it. I often wanted to beg you to take me with you to the barbershop, but was afraid of what Mom, and everyone else would think. I don’t think the Spanish Inquisition had any devices that could’ve tortured me more than my desire for a haircut has haunted me. It’s almost like a demon riding my back, saying, ‘Cut your hair off." I wiped my eyes. "I don’t know why I’m so fascinated by short hair, but I am. I wish I could just understand it!"

Uncle Harvey stopped me. "Why do you need to know why you’re drawn to short hair? Does it matter? To my way of thinking, the only thing that matters is that it’s what you want."

He paused to puff on his pipe. "Would knowing why change your desire? Would it make your neighbors think any differently about you?"

I thought for a minute. "No, sir. I don’t guess it would change anything, but it seems like if something is this important to me, I’d be able to say why."

"Let me ask you something."

"Sure."

"Have you ever heard anyone say, ‘I really love bacon, but I need to know why I like it before I can eat it’?"

I chuckled. "No, sir. I sincerely doubt anyone in the world has ever said something like that."

"You’re right. They like it, and they eat it. I think you wanting to get a short haircut is kinda like someone else wanting to eat a pound of bacon. It don’t matter why they like bacon, or why you like short hair. You both just like it. Accept it as a fact, and get on with your life."

I thought about that for a second. "I guess that makes sense, but I’ll have to think on it for a while." I stopped talking, and started thinking. Then I said, "I don’t know. What you said makes sense, but I still feel like I should be able to say why." I paused again. "I guess I’m just batsh!t crazy. I’m fascinated by the 1940’s, and I can’t tell you why about that either. Not just the haircuts, but the clothes and the whole way of life. I study it all the time. Hell, I even bought an old suit and a fedora for my Halloween costume."

"How did you feel when you wore it?"

"I felt right. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was me. Even though I had my hair in a bun under the hat, it still felt like the honest me."

He got lost in thought. "That tells me a lot. I reckon you’re going to have to decide whether you want to be happy with who you are, or if you want to be unhappy, and make everyone else happy. It’s as simple as that."

"Do you really think it will be that easy, Uncle Harvey?"

He got serious. "I didn’t say nothing about it being easy, but it is that simple. Simple and easy ain’t always the same thing. In your case, all you have to do is make up your mind, and do it. All you need is a few clothes and a decent haircut. That’s simple. The hard part’s gonna be dealing with people, and I don’t imagine that’s gonna be easy for a big-hearted young man like you. I know you don’t like to disappoint folks."

He paused to light his pipe. "If you decide to live out your life like you’re talking about, I’m reasonably certain that a lot of folks are gonna give you holy hell over itâ€"including your mother. She’s got a mean streak a mile wide when it comes to folks not living up to her expectations. Having said that, you’re living on your own now. You ain’t gotta worry about her opinion. Either she accepts you, or she don’t. That’s up to her, and it’s not on you. All you have to decide is whether it’s worth it to you to take what she, and a lot of other folks, are going to say."

He kept talking. "I imagine you’ll get a lot of comments at first, but people get used to things. If you decide to do this, you’ll just have to weather the storm until it loses steam, but I can damn near guarantee you that folks will eventually find something else to worry about."

Uncle Harvey gave me a long hard stare. "Are you ready to stand up, and be the man you want to be, or are you going to keep kissing people’s asses? If you’re ready to stand up, let’s go to the barbershop."

I stared at him for a long time. "You’ve given me a lot to think about. Can I take a few minutes to process it?"

"Take as long as you need." Then he grinned, "But my ass is going to the barbershop in thirty minutes, with, or without you."

"Thanks, Uncle Harvey. Give me a few minutes."

I went to my truck, and got my pipe out. I needed some extra comfort while I faced what was an extremely difficult decision for me.

I heard Uncle Harvey say, "I wondered how long it was gonna be before you told me you were a pipe smoker."

Smartass me showed up. "I didn’t tell you, sir. I just did it."

He grinned. "Touche!"

Then he started talking. "You weren’t as smart as you thought you were when you were a kid. I think you were about eight when a pouch of tobacco disappeared from my suitcase at your house…and my favorite pipe. I saw it in the shop the next day. I also smelled it on you."

I was so shocked I couldn’t say anything. He kept going. "After you ‘borrowed’ your first pipe and tobacco from me, I started bringing extra with me, because I figured you’d want it."

I blushed bright red, and thought, "Damn it. Why do I always have to blush?"

"I’m sorry, Uncle Harvey. I’m really not a thief. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never stolen anything else, from anyone else. I don’t know why I thought it was OK to take it from you. I don’t know if I thought you wouldn’t notice, or if I thought you wouldn’t mind. Hell, I don’t think I even thought at the time." I paused, and then kept talking. "I really regret it, and have often wondered how to make it right." I paused again. "Why weren’t you mad at me? I’ve heard you talk about hating a thief more than anything. More importantly, why didn’t you tell Mom?"

He laughed. "I couldn’t be mad at you for doing the same thing I did. When I was about eight, I stole a pouch from Papa, and he caught me." Uncle Harvey paused, and then said, "I learned how to handle what you did from my father. He just said, ‘Son, don’t ever lie to me. If you wanna smoke, I can’t stop you. How about I give you a few extra chores to help pay for the ‘baccy?’."

I could tell he was thinking, and I left him alone. He finally started talking again. "Didn’t you ever notice I was always asking you to do things for me? It was just my way of making you pay me back for the tobacco."

Memories flooded my mind. I thought about him asking me to get him a cup of coffee, shine his shoes, hang up his clothes. He often "forgot" things in his car, and asked me to get them. His book was in the bedroom, and he needed it in the living room. He would ask me to go to the store and pick up things for him. Other times he needed help washing his car.

I shook my head. "I never knew. Thanks for being patient with me."

Uncle Harvey changed the subject, and what he said next really shook me to the core. It hit a chord, and no matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t negate what he said. He said, "As far as I know, there’s no law that says you have to follow the styles." He laughed. "If there was a law like that, I’d be in jail right now."

He thought for a minute. "I used to build sets for the community theater. They had a saying, ‘create the illusion’. If you want to create the illusion that you’re a time traveler, then just do it."

He kept talking. "Just because you live in a time, don’t mean you have to fit in. You can live in any era you want to. Hell, if you want to be a caveman and put a bone in your nose and carry a big club while wearing hides, you can do it. You just have to be willing to be considered an odd duck, and be made fun of."

He paused and continued, "It’s all up to you. Just make up your mind what you want, and do it. It’s that simple. You gotta decide how weird you want to be, and then go with it." He followed with, "My best advice for you is, if you’re gonna be weird, be good at it. It’ll make folks think it’s right."

After a pause, he kept going. "You could go as deep with the illusion as you want to. It wouldn’t be hard to find 1940’s furniture in a junk store, and you could always restore an old car."

I thought for a second. "I’m not so sure about furnishing my house, but it’d be kick-ass to drive an old car. I’m gonna have to see what I can find."

He grinned. "That sounds like you’ve made up your mind. I guess that means we’re creating the illusion. Get your ass in the car, and we’ll go introduce you to my barber. He’ll have you looking like 1947 in a heartbeat."

We got in the car, and he started backing out. Suddenly he stopped and looked at me. "Did you bring that Halloween suit with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go put it on. I want you to walk out of the barbershop looking like the man you want to be."

I thought, "I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but ready or not, here it comes."

I slowly got out of the car. Then I saw that Uncle Harvey was getting out too. "Do you have your camera with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I want a before and after picture. Get the damned camera."

I got the camera out, and stood by the truck, for Uncle Harvey to take the picture. He barked, "Take that damned pipe out of your mouth. That’s for your after picture."

I grinned. "You’re right, and I can’t wait to take that picture."

Uncle Harvey took quite a few pictures, saying, "I ain’t so good with a camera, but I reckon if I take enough pictures, I’m bound to get a good one."

After he was satisfied he’d got a picture he’d like, I got my suit out of the truck and walked into the house slowly. Everything felt surreal, and I kept thinking, "I can’t believe I agreed to do this. Is it really going to happen?"

I went into the bathroom, and looked at myself. My first thought was, "I have to do something with my hair. I can’t insult this suit by wearing long hair with it."

It was like Uncle Harvey read my mind. "There’s Brylcreem in the cabinet, if you want to put some on your hair. It’ll help keep that mess out of your face."

"Thanks. I think I’ll try it."

I slowly massaged some Brylcreem in, and then parted my hair on the left (I think this was the first time in my life my hair had ever been parted anywhere but the center.) I combed the hair back, trying to tuck it in behind my ears. The hair on the sides wouldn’t stay up, so I put some more Brylcreem on it. That helped. I managed to get a bun up, and still keep the part. It almost looked right.

I admired the tracks the comb left in my hair, and was thrilled to see the shine. I thought, "That’s a good start, Curtis. Hurry up, so you can see the finished results."

I put on a wife beater T-shirt (which is classic vintage to me), and then my stiffly starched dress shirt. I stopped to admire the big collar (it was called a spear point collar) before putting the tie on (I was still fascinated by how short ties were from the era). I slipped on the pants, and thought, "I’m glad I remembered to get suspenders to go with the suit. It just feels better." I slipped on the three-button tweed suit coat, and admired the oversized lapels, and the patch pockets. I thought, "It’s amazing how buff these shoulder pads make me look."

I turned my attention to the pocket square and adjusted. Then I checked myself out. "I really like how the striped shirt goes with the tweed jacket. It just makes everything so much more interesting."

Everything (except my hair) felt just right. I pulled my dress socks on, and then put my shoes on, thinking, "Thank god I polished them before I left home. I’d hate to have to take time to polish them now."

I make one more pass with the comb, before putting on the fedora. Then I looked in the mirror for one last look. I couldn’t help myself. I thought, "Damn! You’re a mighty fine looking son of a bitch. Maybe old-fashioned, but mighty fine, nonetheless."

A sense of peace and rightness filled me, as I admired myself. Dare I say joy too? I just knew that I was doing the right thing, and felt really good about myself.

Right before I left the bathroom, I thought, "I need to research, and see if any men were wearing goatees at this time. If I’m going to…damn, what did Uncle Harvey call it? Oh yeah, create the illusion. If I’m going to create the illusion, I need to create it perfectly."

Then I thought, "To hell with it. I like the goatee, why not create my own version of what I want. I’ll keep it."

I stepped into the living room, and Uncle Harvey stood up. "Not bad. Not bad at all. I reckon I can see the shadow of the man you’re about to be. Now, let’s get the hell out of here, and get the job done."

When we got outside, I said, "Oh, wait just a sec, Uncle Harvey. I left my wallet in the truck."

"Make sure you get all your money. Walt will probably charge you for at least a dozen haircuts, and I don’t blame him. He don’t know it, but he’s got a lot of work ahead of him."

I saw my pipes when I reached in the truck, and stuffed a couple into my pocket, thinking "Thank god I didn’t forget these."

I walked over to get in Uncle Harvey’s car, and all the joy I had been feeling left me. Abject terror and complete panic overtook me. I thought I was going to ralph.

Uncle Harvey looked at me. "Before we leave, I need you to do something for me."

I managed to croak out, "Ok."

"Prove to me that this is right for you. I ain’t gonna be happy if I find out you did it for me. Hell, I don’t care if you wanna be a hippy the rest of your life. I just want you to be happy. Are you gonna be happy with this?"

Him saying that helped me focus, and the nausea began to abate. "No sir, Let me assure you this is NOT for you. It is solely for myself. It’s something I’ve desired for a great deal of time, and have never had the self-assuredness to actively pursue." I thought for a minute. "You gave me much great insight into the consequences of my actions and the benefits of it. You also provoked a tremendous amount of thought in me. Your wisdom and insight inspired me to find the conviction that this is absolutely the correct path for me to trod, but I am the one who ultimately arrived at the decision. Not you."

I kept going. "I will not go through with this today, if your perception is that I am only doing it for your benefit, but make no mistake. I will go through with it, but only because I long to do so with great fervency." I paused. "Let me correct that. It’s not something I long to do. It’s something I must do to be content with myself. I will be fulfilling a visceral longing that has haunted me most of my life." I looked at him. "This is entirely about me, and has absolutely nothing to do with you…unless it’s the fact that you set a tremendous example for me."

I kept talking. "I don’t know if I’m fully aware of the consequences of what I’m about to embark upon, but I’m elated to be doing it. I will deal with the aftermath as it occurs, and I am fully aware that there will likely be times when I’ll wonder why the hell I opted to take this path. Nonetheless, I am confident that I have arrived at the correct decision. I am absolutely certain the journey of discovery will make the effort worthwhile."

I laughed. "I sound like I’m Christopher Columbus about to set sail in search of the new world."

Uncle Harvey said, "That might be a heckuva closer to the truth that you know right now…but know this. It takes a lot of balls to do what you’re doing, and I’m so damned proud of you. I’m mighty happy that you’re breaking away from the known, and into this cycle of discovery. I wish I was young enough to see where you end up. I suspect it’ll be a good place for you, wherever you wind up."

He smiled. "Ok, I’m satisfied. When you’re convinced you’re right your college learning always comes out, and makes you talk real fancy. Now, let’s get the hell out of Dodge!"

I gave Uncle Harvey "a look". "I do? I didn’t realize that." I laughed. "Do I have ANY secrets from you?"

"Yes son, you talk real dandified when you reckon you’re right. To answer your second question, I suspect you’ve got a helluva lot of secrets in that brain of yours, but I reckon I could shock the pants off of you with some of the things I know about you."

He laughed. "I’ll tell you another secret. Your Arkansas roots come out when you ain’t sure about what you’re saying, and you lose all your college talk. You sound real country then."

"I do? My professors would hate to hear that!" I looked at him. "How do you know so much about me?"

"Well, I’m a people watcher, just like you. I can figure out a lot that way, but with you, it’s a lot easier. You might not know it, but we’re two peas in a pod. We think an awfully lot alike. If I’m wondering what you’re thinking, I just ask myself what I would be thinking if I was in your shoes. It’s normally pretty easy to figure out."

I was flabbergasted. "We’re alike? I’ve never noticed it, but I have also never had anyone give me a compliment that I value more than what you just said. There’s not a person alive, or who’s ever been alive, that I would rather resemble." Tears came to my eyes. "Thank you for that, Uncle Harvey. I am truly flattered."

"Like I said, we’re two peas in a pod." He looked at me. "One last question before we go in."

"Yes, sir. Ask away."

"What do you think you’ll miss most about having long hair?"

"Well, it sure as hell won’t be having to spend hours every day fixing it."

He laughed, "You won’t even spend a minute a day combing it!"

I thought about that for a second. "My god, that sounds amazing. I look forward to that. "

I thought again. "To answer your question, I will probably miss the compliments most. It’s rare for a day to go by when I don’t have at least one person say something favorable about my hair."

"You might be surprised. I’d be willing to bet you’ll get some compliments on your new haircut. I get them all the time. The only thing is, I get comments from old geezers." I knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Not pretty girls…" he paused, "Or the occasional handsome manâ€"which I reckon you’ve had happen to you many times."

I felt weak. "You know?"

"Like I said, we are alike, and we think alike."

I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Finally, I said, "Did you just tell me what I think you did?"

"Yes, son." He looked down. "I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but in my heart I’m a homo, a faggot, or as you young folks say today, I’m gay."

"You’ve never told anyone? Never? How did you manage? It seems like that would be an unbearable burden." I shook my head. "I never even suspected. Mom told me about you getting a ‘Dear John’ letter while you were in Germany, and said you were so heartbroken you never married. I never dreamed…" I stopped, unable to go on.

He stared into space for a minute. "Yes, I was engaged to a lovely lady when I went in the Army, and I got a ‘Dear John’ letter, but I was mighty glad to get it. I’d been thinking about breaking it off with her, and didn’t know how. I knew getting married wouldn’t be fair to her. It would’ve been wrong for me to marry her, knowing how I felt about…things."

"Did you love her?"

"Yes. I loved her dearly. I loved her too much to put her through the hell of being married to a man who couldn’t be the husband she needed."

Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. "I never dreamed I would ever tell anyone about this."

"I’m so sorry, Uncle Harvey. I cannot imagine what you’ve been through."

I gathered my thoughts. "It’s none of my business, but…"

He cut me off. He had read my mind. "No. I’m a 73-year-old virgin. I’ve never been in a relationship with anyoneâ€"man or woman, even though there were a few times when I was tempted."

I cut him off. "You mean you never…um…even while you were in the Army? I thought all soldiers…um…did the deed"

"Nope, not even in the Army. I was taught right from wrong at a early age, and I just couldn’t make myself…uh…do the deed, even though I wanted to." He got emotional. "Damn it! I wanted to screw a girl, just so I could say I was normal."

"Why didn’t you find a man? You could’ve been discreet."

"I can think of a couple of reasons why. First, I figured if I could see things in other people, then folks would be able to see them in me. I was afraid of somebody figuring out my secret. Secondly, Mama and Papa taught me that it’s a sin for a man to be with a man, and I didn’t want to go to Hell."

He settled down. "I don’t guess I’ll ever be normal. I know it’s weird for a man my age to be a virgin, but I always figured my life on earth was hell enough. I didn’t want to risk being sent to hell for fornicating, much less being a pervert. Plus, I want to go to Heaven so I can see Mama and Papa again."

He seemed to be struggling, so I gave him a minute to get his thoughts together. Then he said, "I think I was wrong. We don’t know for sure that there’s life after death. All we know for certain is that we have one life, and it’s mighty short. I wish I had decided to be happy in the life that I had."

"Look at me, Curtis."

I looked at him. "Take the advice of an old fart. Live your life. Be happy." He shook his head. "Now, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll get to the Day of Judgment, and God will say, ‘Harvey, you blew it. I gave you the precious gift of life, and sent two men across your path that would have loved you. Why didn’t you accept my gift?’."

Tears were pouring out of my eyes like water from a faucet. "Uncle Harvey, I don’t know if I believe in a great god, but I can’t imagine a god worth his salt saying something like that, especially when that god knows what the Bible says."

I had to stop to get my emotions under control. "I may be young, and not have the wisdom of age, but I want nothing to do with a god who acts like that! Any god worth a damn would realize that you did the best you could, with the knowledge you had. You’ve lived a good life, but it breaks my heart to find out you haven’t had a happy life."

He put his hand on mine. "Don’t you be falling into a pity party for me. I may not have led a happy life, but overall, I’ve been pretty content. I’ve had a few good friends, and a job that I really liked. On top of that, I like my solitude, and I’ve had plenty of that. If I could do my life over, I might change some things, but there’s a lot I’d keep the same."

He cleared his throat, and said, "That’s enough about me. Let’s go get you ready for the rest of your life."

I laughed. "I know a brushoff when I see it, but you can bet your ass that this conversation is not over."

"I didn’t expect it to be over. I’m sure we’ll talk it to death at some point, but right now, we’re going to go make you look like the man you want to be."

I looked at him. "Before we go, I have to say two more things. First, thanks for trusting me with this. It’s truly an honor. Secondly, your secret is safe with me. I won’t ever say a word to anyone, not even my diary."

He hugged me. "I know that, or else I would’ve kept my mouth shut. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only one good at keeping secrets."

I smirked. "I guess I’m not so good at keeping secrets. How the hell did you know I was gay?"

"That’s easy. I told you, I watch people. You look at pretty girls and quickly look away, but you really LOOK at a handsome young man. I ain’t a rocket scientist, but hell, even I could figure that out."

"Well, I’ll be damned. I have always looked at cute girls to keep others from guessing. I guess I’m not as smart as I think I am." I looked at him again. "What other things have you ‘figured out’?"

He grinned. "I figured out you were a pipe smoker and that you wanted a short haircut. Now get your ass in that car, and let's get you that haircut before I die of old age!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

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