Ron's Barber Shop

It was time for another haircut at Ron's Barber Shop in Carlsbad, in North County. I had been going there, and only there for four years.

   Not only is Ron the best cutter  this side of the San Diego River, but he is also my "shrink." my adviser. When the love of my life, Shelly Fartslinger,  told me I "was ugly and boring," he told me there were others who might think otherwise. He saved my life when I had none-at the time
   It had been another cold, windy and rainy day in San Diego way. Tired of the new San Diego Library that has more tourists than the zoo, I decided to drive from Old Town to Carlsbad. I would use their modest, but quiet library for my work.
   It is Saturday eight o'clock. A pickup truck is on my tail bumper. I slow down so he won't hit me, and enter their. Albertson's shopping center. I pull Dolly into a stall next to Ron's shop. A bearded gentleman hurries in before me. I recognize him as the driver of the truck. He is next in line while Ron finishes off the one in the hot seat. The hurried wears a long black beard.
    "How ya doin Paul? Haven't seen you in awhile."
    "Well all I do is work, work and work." Another gentleman comes in. He wears a longer beard with a long belly to match. He sits like an igloo with nothing to read except  the head surgery administered in front of him."
     In the middle of the haircut Ron tells me about a blog the San Diego City Counsel should entertain
     "Ya know George about how our politicians wish to tax those who use too much water and go over their allotment?" I nodded and let him finish, no small task for a mouth too big for its britches.
     Take the extra money and place it into a interest bearing fund. After the drought, return the money in the form of interest to the people.
    Ron began to mop the floor while Mr. Long Beard took up the gurney. 'I don't trust my wife any more. Cut a little off the top and trim my mustache and beard."
    Ron then quipped about a restaurant he saw coming off the 169 freeway in downtown San Diego.
   "I came off of the freeway and saw my favorite restaurant in front of me. It was Hodat's, the one also in Pacific Beach. I wondered why the restaurant would wish to locate itself among so many homeless."
   Well Ron, I retorted, the homeless use their E.B.T. cards for food. Also, many day city workers enjoy their hamburgers  And it is not Pacific Beach. Hodat's is located in Ocean Beach, I believe on Newport Avenue.
    "I can't believe how crowded the Gas Lamp area is now George. A few years back, it was empty."
   It now was my turn for a cut. "Do what you did last time. Short and get the nose. The gals at the El Cajon Elks raved about the last cut I got. How are your nine grand kids?"
   My short hair cut finished, I removed my Trojan football manuscript and before I walked out, thanked him for making me so happy, these four and turbulent years of my life.
   Ron, no longer will I watch the Academy awards on Sunday. Instead, I will look at the pictures of my own grand kids and the trophies of course belong to my two beloved daughters.
  Ron does not work at his craft. Why he could give a haircut blind folded. He loves his profession. It is not work, but servicing God.