Of Barbers, Fathers and Sons

On Sundays, and most evenings of the week, I work part-time as cashier in the local barbershop.

Yesterday we had an unusual onslaught of fathers bringing their sons for a hair cut. You can imagine my thoughts throughout the day. There were obnoxious sons and there were obnoxious fathers; there were, of course, obnoxious father and son teams. Sometimes, we get quiet father and son teams. All the time I know the fathers were having fun with their sons- for it seems to me that this act of cutting hair in the presence of many other males and performed by an experienced barber (equated as a shaman) appears to be a primitive village ritual. And the fathers are proud to have a son. While contemplating on the times we had together in a barbershop, I cannot help but succumb to envy that I do not have you with me right now. We had many barbershop experiences, spanning from Ilocos in the north to Cebu in the south. I will write about them sometime.

Meanwhile, my mind is transfixed to these fortunate fathers who are delighting in their “quality time” at the same time showing-off their off-spring. Quite suddenly but expectedly, I am saddened by the fact that I (and perhaps several millions of fathers in foreign lands) have relinquished this same opportunity due to fear of economics. My father made the right decision to stay with us at the expense of a better palette. I would surely regret that the time I have not spent with you will never be replaced by ANYTHING.

One of these days I will grow some brass balls and not be afraid of economics.