My hometown was too small to even have a barber. We had a general store and a church and that was it. My dad used to drive me and him to the next little town to go to the barber, where i sat on a padded board placed across the arms of the chair. The barber (whom I can't remember the name of now sadly) would pull scissors and combs out of those glass containers filled with Barbasol and snip snip away. Afterwards, my dad and I would head off to a local gas station/garage where we'd get a 6 oz coke and a chocolate bar of some sort and he'd stand around telling lies with the other old boys, while I'd be getting myself into trouble "touching" things I wasn't supposed to , like the tools etc. Good memories.
I'll slap you in the ass even if you DON'T make a great catch, sailor!
(pause)
Anyway...my father always cut my hair. Electric clippers, ONE size plastic cover on it so you didn't cut your victim bald. And, God Love him, he was the WORST barber EVER. I look back on school pictures - especially after girls and appearances were all of a sudden important - and you could tell when my old man was cutting my hair, and when I finally begged Mom for $ and snuck off to get a decent haircut.
Woo wee, y'all had BARBER MONEY?! My Momma grabbed the clippers and butchered my hair, and the only slap on the ass I got was when I squirmed to much in the chair!
Since you asked... Picture this. Memphis, 1956. Neighborhood barbershop had two barber chairs with a rotating red and white tube by its front door. I got free haircuts because I would sing Elvis' "you ain't nothing but a hound dog".
I grew up in an inconspicuous corner of a Maryland county, right on the Pennsylvania line. (We actually have a Mason-Dixon mile marker on the property.) Our first post-office address was a small town in York County, Pennsylvania, because the post office apparently thinks that the Mason-Dixon is just an inessential fantasy perpetrated by godless surveyors from England.
Anyway: I drive through that little town when I'm visiting family on the Big Food Holidays and I think... that shopping center used to be a field where they used to have the Steam-O-Rama (farm equipment, calliopes run by steam -- still taking place, just somewhere else.) And that was the doctor's office, now a private residence. And the old bank (a beauty) became a real estate business, currently a church (hey, celestial real estate, all yours merely for faith and regular chunks of money paid to the pastor), the old five & ten cent store/hardware store great for Christmas shopping -- now the borough building. The old library -- ditto -- also a borough office. The old movie theatre with the sagging marquee has been out of business since the early 1960s (last movie to show there was "Muscle Beach Party" -- twenty-five cents a ticket if you were under 16. Popcorn - ten cents.) They finally bulldozed it to the ground. And the building next to THAT used to be (fanfare) THE BARBER SHOP. I think it's now a residence too, the way the old fruit & vegetable store is now. Peps Hammers. Had the most intoxicating fragrance of grapes, oranges, apples...
Yes, I was also taken to the barber shop (kicking and screaming) even though I was technically A Girl. I would get a standard Japanese baby-doll bowl cut with bangs. If I behaved myself, I'd be rewarded with a cherry-flavored lollipop with those loop handles (not the stick). The thing is -- I never behaved, but I got that lollipop anyway* -- I'm just surprised they didn't dose it with cyanide. I wasn't the most cooperative patient and after the barber started to ask for combat pay, my mother decided to let my hair grow.
I think the only building that hasn't been knocked down or repurposed into Something Else by now... is the funeral home.
The funeral home is always those most opulent building in Pennsylvania small towns... wonder why?
Used to be that the default small business was the Video Store. Now it's Tattoo parlors...
*Bet the barbershop was in cahoots with the dentist...
The Mississippi has so many memories for me, my family and friends.
From walking about the banks as a kids with grandma and picnicking afterward our walk, to biking along the Minnehaha Creek to the Minnehaha falls, then walking down to the Mississippi,
to having keggers down on the banks of the river and scrambling up the bank to avoid the cop raid, to jumping about under the railroad bridge that spanned over the river and smoking pot with friends.
I grew up on a small farm about 7 miles from the nearest small town.
I think what we get nostalgic for is the simplicity of the times. We didn’t have to support ourselves or even cook for ourselves when we were kids. Adults had all the responsibilities and, if we were lucky, we weren’t even aware of the trials and problems they had.
I want to go back to being taken care of. But I also want to do whatever I want to do. 😎😀😁
Kinda jealous. Of the haircut thing. My hair has been a source of like...highly political woe my whole life. Guess it's different when you're queer with boobs in a strict religious environment.
Course I do wax nostalgic about all the PRANKS I pulled after i was like fuck them cuz those motherfuckers were hell bent on repressing me. I walk around like "that's where I got so and so with the super soaker" "that's where I shaved the neighbors cat and pretend threatened to eat it cuz she called me a devil whore" "that's where I threw a tampon dipped in red manic panic hair dye in that dudes car" etc.
But the thing I will wax nostalgic about to a degree that's too long for here is sneaking out of the house when I was like 11 and discovering the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Lied about my age, got in. And went every Friday my mom didn't Essentially hogtie me in a locked closet for the next 10 years. It was the one place where you could really let your freak flag fly with zero judgement.
Small towns hit and can suck at the same time. Never move to a small town from a city as you will be misjudged and you will never be a permanent resident to those that were born and raised there.
We grew up in the 60’s and 70’s much like you did in the 80’s and 90’s with not much appreciable difference other than to say we were “free range” as long as we were home at meal time. No cell phones was a wonderful time to grow up. Trouble yup, we found it but nobody died.
My hometown was too small to even have a barber. We had a general store and a church and that was it. My dad used to drive me and him to the next little town to go to the barber, where i sat on a padded board placed across the arms of the chair. The barber (whom I can't remember the name of now sadly) would pull scissors and combs out of those glass containers filled with Barbasol and snip snip away. Afterwards, my dad and I would head off to a local gas station/garage where we'd get a 6 oz coke and a chocolate bar of some sort and he'd stand around telling lies with the other old boys, while I'd be getting myself into trouble "touching" things I wasn't supposed to , like the tools etc. Good memories.
I'll slap you in the ass even if you DON'T make a great catch, sailor!
(pause)
Anyway...my father always cut my hair. Electric clippers, ONE size plastic cover on it so you didn't cut your victim bald. And, God Love him, he was the WORST barber EVER. I look back on school pictures - especially after girls and appearances were all of a sudden important - and you could tell when my old man was cutting my hair, and when I finally begged Mom for $ and snuck off to get a decent haircut.
Woo wee, y'all had BARBER MONEY?! My Momma grabbed the clippers and butchered my hair, and the only slap on the ass I got was when I squirmed to much in the chair!
Since you asked... Picture this. Memphis, 1956. Neighborhood barbershop had two barber chairs with a rotating red and white tube by its front door. I got free haircuts because I would sing Elvis' "you ain't nothing but a hound dog".
I grew up in an inconspicuous corner of a Maryland county, right on the Pennsylvania line. (We actually have a Mason-Dixon mile marker on the property.) Our first post-office address was a small town in York County, Pennsylvania, because the post office apparently thinks that the Mason-Dixon is just an inessential fantasy perpetrated by godless surveyors from England.
Anyway: I drive through that little town when I'm visiting family on the Big Food Holidays and I think... that shopping center used to be a field where they used to have the Steam-O-Rama (farm equipment, calliopes run by steam -- still taking place, just somewhere else.) And that was the doctor's office, now a private residence. And the old bank (a beauty) became a real estate business, currently a church (hey, celestial real estate, all yours merely for faith and regular chunks of money paid to the pastor), the old five & ten cent store/hardware store great for Christmas shopping -- now the borough building. The old library -- ditto -- also a borough office. The old movie theatre with the sagging marquee has been out of business since the early 1960s (last movie to show there was "Muscle Beach Party" -- twenty-five cents a ticket if you were under 16. Popcorn - ten cents.) They finally bulldozed it to the ground. And the building next to THAT used to be (fanfare) THE BARBER SHOP. I think it's now a residence too, the way the old fruit & vegetable store is now. Peps Hammers. Had the most intoxicating fragrance of grapes, oranges, apples...
Yes, I was also taken to the barber shop (kicking and screaming) even though I was technically A Girl. I would get a standard Japanese baby-doll bowl cut with bangs. If I behaved myself, I'd be rewarded with a cherry-flavored lollipop with those loop handles (not the stick). The thing is -- I never behaved, but I got that lollipop anyway* -- I'm just surprised they didn't dose it with cyanide. I wasn't the most cooperative patient and after the barber started to ask for combat pay, my mother decided to let my hair grow.
I think the only building that hasn't been knocked down or repurposed into Something Else by now... is the funeral home.
The funeral home is always those most opulent building in Pennsylvania small towns... wonder why?
Used to be that the default small business was the Video Store. Now it's Tattoo parlors...
*Bet the barbershop was in cahoots with the dentist...
I grew up in Minneapolis.
The Mississippi has so many memories for me, my family and friends.
From walking about the banks as a kids with grandma and picnicking afterward our walk, to biking along the Minnehaha Creek to the Minnehaha falls, then walking down to the Mississippi,
to having keggers down on the banks of the river and scrambling up the bank to avoid the cop raid, to jumping about under the railroad bridge that spanned over the river and smoking pot with friends.
such good times.
I love the Mississippi
I grew up on a small farm about 7 miles from the nearest small town.
I think what we get nostalgic for is the simplicity of the times. We didn’t have to support ourselves or even cook for ourselves when we were kids. Adults had all the responsibilities and, if we were lucky, we weren’t even aware of the trials and problems they had.
I want to go back to being taken care of. But I also want to do whatever I want to do. 😎😀😁
Kinda jealous. Of the haircut thing. My hair has been a source of like...highly political woe my whole life. Guess it's different when you're queer with boobs in a strict religious environment.
Course I do wax nostalgic about all the PRANKS I pulled after i was like fuck them cuz those motherfuckers were hell bent on repressing me. I walk around like "that's where I got so and so with the super soaker" "that's where I shaved the neighbors cat and pretend threatened to eat it cuz she called me a devil whore" "that's where I threw a tampon dipped in red manic panic hair dye in that dudes car" etc.
But the thing I will wax nostalgic about to a degree that's too long for here is sneaking out of the house when I was like 11 and discovering the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Lied about my age, got in. And went every Friday my mom didn't Essentially hogtie me in a locked closet for the next 10 years. It was the one place where you could really let your freak flag fly with zero judgement.
Hey Cho,
Small towns hit and can suck at the same time. Never move to a small town from a city as you will be misjudged and you will never be a permanent resident to those that were born and raised there.
We grew up in the 60’s and 70’s much like you did in the 80’s and 90’s with not much appreciable difference other than to say we were “free range” as long as we were home at meal time. No cell phones was a wonderful time to grow up. Trouble yup, we found it but nobody died.
Love your stories and that Georgian accent bud!
❤️🇨🇦Skew!!!