I got into my car to do errands, and Get A Haircut was on the list. Pushed the Android Auto Search microphone icon and when it beeped I said “Barber shop near me.” It navigated me to a shop on Monroe Street with traditional barber poles, and I walked in, and wow, did I feel white. The clientele and staff were African-American, there was hip-hop playing on the speakers, and a large portrait of Muhammad Ali just inside the front door.
One of the barbers looked up at me and said, “Help you?”
“Just a haircut,” I said, and sat to wait. I felt like an intruder, though no one there said or did anything to make me feel unwelcome. But I also felt as though Fate had handed me a ticket to a new Great Human Adventure.
“What’s your name?” said the big man in whose chair I now sat. He reminded me a little of Roosevelt “Rosey” Grier, former defensive tackle for the LA Rams. (He is still with us at 94 years of age!) When I said Gary he said I could call him JV.
JV listened carefully to what I wanted: short, professional-looking, squared-off collar-length in back, REALLY short on the sides, and enough on top to keep it from sticking up. And in about 25 minutes he produced the EXACT haircut I had described.
“I think I know what JV stands for,” I told him.
“My first name is Jamal…”
“Nah. I’m pretty sure JV stands for Justly Victorious.” That gave him a grin.
I got permission to mention his name and my new haircut in a post,paid him in full with a $10 tip, and went home to show my Sweetheart the work of art on my head.
