Rich's Barbershop

If you are serious about overcoming SSA, you’ve probably learned that you need to gradually chase every remnant of defensive detachment from masculine things out of your system. We need to do what men do and go where men go. A big step in this regard for me was becoming a customer at Rich’s barbershop.

For years I went to the local franchise of a hair salon to get my hair cut. The salon had a staff consisting entirely of women and one very unmasculine man. As I sat in the chair, five feet to the left a woman was giving another woman a style-cut, all the while talking about highlights and styling gels. In the waiting area are magazines like People and Intouch and books of hairstyles.

What on earth was I thinking?

Less than half a block away is a barbershop. Rich is the owner and sole barber. The place doesn’t have a name. I don’t think that it has ever been redecorated and none of the patrons care. There are all sorts of interesting things on the wall, like picture postcards, yellowed business cards, pictures of people and comic strips. No credit cards are accepted; but if you’re short on cash, Rich will just tell you to catch him next time.


Along with the giant barber chair, three old-fashioned theatre chairs face the barber. There is one conversation in this tiny shop. Rich considers the place a man-refuge of sorts. During one haircut, we all talked about using boilers versus forced-air furnaces to heat homes. (Remember, I live in Minnesota.) I think that Rich can carry on a conversation with any man about any topic. At the end of the haircut, Rich lathers your neck with hot foam and then pulls out the sharp razor. It is the best part (no pun intended) of the treatment. I always look forward to the visit.


You might be saying, “It’s only a haircut, Dave.” Yes, that's true. But for me it is enormously symbolic. When I was a kid, I used to go to the barbershop with my dad. It was a man’s world. We would go on Saturday afternoon and there was a game on the TV and Car and Driver and Field and Stream in the magazine rack.


Then somewhere along the line it was decided that I wasn’t getting a good haircut there. I must have been about 13. My mom found a “stylist” and brought me to her. I was out of the man’s world and into a salon and I didn’t protest.



It took me a few decades, but I made it back to the barbershop.


Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong. 1 Corinthians 16:13