My life as a Barber – Hairstylist the good, the bad & the bleached
My Summer of Love
It was the summer of “69”. I was 14 years young, just beginning the prime of my life. I have one whole year of High School stashed in my back pocket, along with a couple of pieces of hotdog Bubblegum. Straddling my Sting-Ray, bicycle cleats and baseball glove hanging from the handlebars and overlooking the baseball field in the back of Los Alamitos Junior High School. This was the beginning of my last season in Pony League Baseball and this was going to be a great season. That was all I wanted, that was all I expected. Little did I know I was in for bigger and way better things than just baseball.
I did all my growing up in the boring little city of Garden Grove, California. My father owned a barbershop on Garden Grove Boulevard. He also owned an illegitimate son. Both of these facts would put a whole different meaning to my Summer of Love.
Ever since I was 12 Every other Sunday I was expected to pedal 3 miles round trip to clean my father’s shop. Three hours of sweeping, washing and waxing floors. Cleaning and polishing those five huge barber chairs. Clean the scum from the back bar and the shampoo bowls. Not to mention that long-ass mirror behind the back bar. Emptying and cleaning all the ashtrays. God I hated that Barbershop.
Meanwhile back at the baseball field I was creaming the ball. Playing Flawless shortstop and stealing bases at will. I was at the top of my game soon to be an All-Star. This was my environment and I was flourishing. But there was something different this season. Something very different. There were girls sitting in the bleachers! There were always my teammate’s sisters and their girlfriends in the stands but all those previous seasons they were just a nuisance and something you had to put up with. But this year, all of a sudden, they became an added attraction. And instead of playing ball you found yourself showing off. And that’s when it began to change.
One of my teammates, Lenny Glambassador was the catcher and he became notorious for two things. Never being able to catch a pop up and being the first teammate to have a girlfriend. Soon word came down from the bleachers and filtered into the dugout. A friend of Lenny’s girlfriend thinks I’m cute. Cute! I’m the shortstop! I have no time for cuteness. But while standing on the on-deck circle I snuck a peek. She noticed, gave me a big smile and waved. How Brazen, what a little hussy…. I smiled back. After the game the four of us sat in the bleachers and laughed about Lenny dropping another pop-up. Later I walked her to the hole in the chain link fence where she crawled through to get to her neighborhood. Before leaving she said see you soon and was gone. I was like the proverbial deer in the headlights. She had long frizzy blond hair, big amber colored eyes, a pug nose and was about two inches taller than me. Her name was Monica. For the next few weeks she would show up at all the games. She would even come to the field where me and my second baseman “The Mole” would be having batting practice. Mole would hit and then he would go pick up the balls while I would go talk to Monica. Then I would hit the balls and the mole would go pick them up while I went to talk to Monica. This would always lead to the Mole riding off on his bike, cursing me out for not helping pick up balls. She would then hold my hand and walk me down the field to sit under a tree.
For hours I would sit and listen to her talk while she would touch my arms and I would touch her arms. She would touch my leg and I would touch her leg. Just let me say this about Monica: she was different from all the other 13 year old girls. She had a lot of Curves. She also had a butt that wasn’t big but it kind of stuck out nicely. But let’s face it the biggest difference was… Let’s just say it… She had “boobs”! And when she wore that cashmere sweater all of a sudden I didn’t care if I ever played baseball again. For a young girl she was the complete package. If it wasn’t for that mouth. She could talk 24/7. I just kept nodding and wondering what was around the corner. What was around the corner was our first kiss and that was the first time I was going to have to be the instigator.
To be continued
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