Sunday, January 17, 2010
ORDER OF THE BALD EAGLE
I had my first crew cut when I was in 7th grade.
The older guys were doing it and I wanted in.
My mother was not very supportive but, I realized, she would not be there for the cutting and so I just went ahead and told Edgar the barber to do it.
Edgar was a Belgian immigrant. He had a photo of King Leopold over the tools and balms. He had just made it out of during the First War. He was very cautious. Conservative.
He was also a drunk. Each haircut, he would have to take a walk back into the house to take a short break. A snort.
He did not want to cut my hair that way. He wanted to call my mother to see if it was OK. He would not take my word.
As I recall, he did call and she said yes. I have had my problems with my Mom but, in this case, she came through.
Edgar still hated the idea. He grumbled. He trimmed. He went for a break. Two snorts.
It wasn't short enough I told him. More. He did it. Wow.
I should say that a crew cut, then, was not severe. It would be 1949-50 here. The beginning of the craze. All boys would soon have one. Or maybe we were the last. We were in the boonies.
I have had a lot of haircuts in my life but that one was the very best. I sailed out of the barber shop.
First day at school I had gym and our class crossed with the upper classmen, maybe the juniors.
My cut was noticed. Don Dougherty, the coolest of cool guys on whom I had a sizable crush, brushed my hair and made a point of making some positive comments about it. Showing the other guys. They said I was a member of the bald eagle clan.
If you are a gay boy just hitting puberty and you are scared shit of any contact with straight boys particularly the handsome ones you cannot imagine the feelings this set off.
I have had a short cut most of my life except during my hippy period and a couple of pony tail trials as I was getting a bit old for it.
Now, I do it my self. Number Two plastic.
It takes about 20 minutes. It is not easy. My hair swirls around the crown. But I get the job done pretty well.
Because I hang out with gay men, someone, always, always, always, mentions my haircut. I swoon a bit inside. Don Dougherty comes back for a few seconds to visit me.
