Cutting Dad's Hair

More than a trim

I am so lucky to still have parents who are alive and well. My Mom is 83 and my Dad just had his 88th birthday! Two infinities and beyond! 88 get it? Infinity signs? Anyway….

He survived the Vietnam war, flew jets and landed on Carriers in the Navy, moved us all onto a 36 ft. sailboat when my two sisters and I were teenagers and we had the utmost trust in him as a sailor. Through all the storms and crazy winds I don’t ever remember being afraid out on the water. If anything I was playing Yahtzee down below with my sisters as he and my Mom hustled around on deck keeping us safe.

He’s a scrappy guy with lots of personality and also cries when any TV show or movie has sad part pertaining to animals. He’s a big softy down deep. That’s what he gets for having three daughters. We certainly keep him on his toes.

And he lets me cut his hair.

You see, one day he came back from Super Cuts or one of those easy walk in places, and came out all chopped up and just not good. Now in my Dad’s hay day, he was mistaken for Robert Redford and now I think he looks like Harrison Ford so he’s a looker even at 88. But his hair was shit!

“Dad, I love you but your hair looks awful. I can do a better job than that for goodness sake.”

I am not a hair stylist but I am an artist and knew I could do a better job. I had worn my hair very short for years and watched very carefully how my talented hair dressers cut my hair. I felt like I could do it.

“Sure,” he said, “You can cut it. I’ve had a hard time finding someone I like.” (that he is willing to pay for that is.)

What is it with men and only going to a barber? At least his generation. And next up was Super Cuts. (no offense Super Cuts but someone hacked up on my Dad’s head.)

So we set a time to cut his hair once it grew out a bit. He came over to my house the first time. I set up a stool and he was very concerned about how much hair would fall on the floor and make a mess. Military upbringing 101! Keep it neat.

I said, “No problem Dad, I can clean it up afterwards.”

I put a towel around his neck and combed his baby fine gray hair. He made a cooing sound obviously liking having his hair combed. I slowly began trimming his hair.

“How long or short do you want it Pops?”

“Oh, I trust you but don’t go too short like I used to wear it in the Navy.”

Of course I loved it that way because it’s how I remember him. I used to think if I saw God they would be wearing Navy khakis. Yes, I love my Dad and admire him.

So I trimmed away. We chatted, he shared some old stories with me. We laughed, talked about my kiddos and he would get up every now and then and check the mirror. He’d walk to the bathroom in his baggy farmer like pants and flannel shirt (total LL Bean guy) and move his bangs around to see how they looked.

“Maybe a little shorter on this side?” he asked.

“Yes, I see that Dad. Let me fix that.”

It took about an hour for me to cut and blend in his hair so it looked good but he trusted I would get it right. When we were done, I don’t think either of us wanted it to end. It was so nice to share that time with my Pop. It was so much more than a haircut session. I felt like it was my turn to take care of him like he had of me when I was a child. Even though the Navy kept my Dad away from us a lot and my Mom really had to raise us much of the time, when he was home and we’d have times like sailing on the high seas, I felt safe and trusted he had things under control. I know not everyone has this in a father so I truly do feel grateful.

As I continue cutting his hair every few months, I know now that my Dad trusts me too and must think I have this hair cutting thing under control. He trusts I won’t hack up his hair too much and ruin his swarthy hot looks! Honestly, I don’t think he really cares how the cut comes out. We get to spend some sweet time together doing something simple, laughing and cracking jokes.

Thanks Super Cuts for the shitty haircut on my Dad. It was a gift I will treasure.

Namaste

Kim