CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE: HAIR WE GO, ADMIRAL!

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE: HAIR WE GO, ADMIRAL!

It’s Sunday afternoon, March 10, and I’ve just finished my first Laura Lippman mystery (protagonist Baltimore PI Tess Monaghan). It’s windy, not a great day for a walk or a bike ride. What to do? What to do? Not a very good day for swimming or lounging by one of the four pools. What to do? What to do? There was something the Admiral wanted to do – what was it? Oh yes, the haircut. For the past two weeks, every time we passed a barber shop, I suggested it would be a good time for a haircut. As you may know, that’s not the way to get the Admiral – or perhaps anyone with a mind of their own – to do something, even if he himself plans to do it. And so, more weeks have gone by and the Admiral’s healthy head of hair has grown – ever since his cut at the red, white and blue striped barber cottage near Thunderbolt, Georgia in November. He can be mistaken for any Ivy League professor at this point and he’s heading to hippiedom.

I turned to the Admiral and said innocently “How about a haircut?” I fully expected a look of horror at the thought that he would turn his beautiful strands over to me, who has never, ever cut anyone’s hair (dolls don’t count). But he said, “Get a couple of sheets. I’ll get the hair cutting kit.” Yes, the Admiral has a hair cutting kit, replete with precision scissors and an electric cutter/razor with about 12 different size combs. It also has an instruction booklet. The Admiral said: “Here, read this booklet and learn how to use these tools, before you start cutting.” What just happened? Now I’m headed down a path I thought I would never take, and the stakes are really, really high. If I blow this, and the Admiral becomes the laughingstock of the marina, what does this do to our relationship? The Admiral mentioned in passing that he can always go to a barber tomorrow to clean up the mistakes I make today. THAT’S encouraging. As I read the booklet, I learned that each of the combs is for a different purpose, when you are shaving/cutting a guy’s hair. There is even a left ear comb, and there is a right ear comb. God help me, these things exist – and they’re in this verdammte hair cutting kit.

I had read the first few pages of the booklet, and the Admiral had laid out the sheet under his chair and put the plastic protective robe over himself. There was nothing left to do but tie the coverlet and commence with the cutting. I have rarely been so nervous in my entire life. The Admiral was supportive, suggesting that I start at the back and work my way up. I took the largest comb and attached it to the electric cutting device, hoping that whatever mistakes I made would be small and fixable. But I found out quickly that even with the largest comb, that electric cutter removes a lot of hair quickly. No, the Admiral was not immediately turned into a skinhead. But I saw an awful lot of hair falling on to the sheet. The Admiral said it felt “good”, and he urged me to start on the sides. Meanwhile, he was in such a good mood, at that point, that he sent out an SOS to family members on both sides. My brother emailed back that it was “too late”. Now I’m here to tell you, the sides are tricky, especially when you’re dealing with 4 to 5 months of growth. Every time I thought I got one side looking pretty good, and I would turn my attention to the other side, when I returned to the first side, there were long hairs sticking out that didn’t belong. You’re right, this was beginning to sound like a disaster.

But the Admiral thought the sides “felt okay”, so we moved on to the hair on top. The Admiral has a part, and on one side of this part are his longest hairs, I mean, really long. I turned on the electric cutter and went to the precision scissors to try to get more control over how much I was cutting at one time. The scissors were great. They would have worked better, if my hands had not been shaking. The front was looking pretty good, but the back, that darned cowlick that sticks up even after the Admiral leaves a professional barber’s chair, that thing was driving me crazy. I had visions of Alfalfa, if I cut off too much of this cowlick, and so I left it long. Then we seemed to be done. I was done, that’s for sure. We took off the coverlet, and shook the hair on to the sheet, we folded up the sheet, and plan to take it to a large field to release the hair tomorrow. The Admiral took a comb to his hair, and, lo and behold, he gave himself a different part than I had given him. And so, instantly, the hair on the down side of the part was too long for that side, way too long. The other thing that “stuck out” to the Admiral was that, in his words, I had given him a “bowl cut.” Oh no, not a bowl cut! Those are the cuts my mother gave to me and my sister, Sue, for years, when we were in elementary school. And when you have a bowl cut with fine hair, there is no mistaking it for anything else. I couldn’t believe that I had channeled my mother, while I was cutting the Admiral’s hair. But he was right! The sides read “soup bowl”.

We put the sheet back down on the floor, covered the Admiral with the plastic once more, and went back to work. The Admiral became more actively involved in the work, directing me to cut each layer a different length as I went up the sides of his head. I was worried that perhaps the only cut I was capable of giving was a bowl cut, based on my genes. But I gamely tried what the Admiral suggested. And, miracles of miracles, the bowl cut look started disappearing before my eyes. I get it! Don’t cut everything the same length – how simple is that? Once I turned the sides into a “man’s haircut”, I decided to tackle the cowlick. It was the only really long hair left on the Admiral’s head, and it was clearly out of place. So with the precision scissors firmly held in my right hand and a comb in the left hand, I combed out the cowlick and snipped the ends ever so delicately. Whew! That wasn’t so bad, and there was no “Alfalfa effect.” Still, I was haunted by my brother’s “It’s too late” comment, and so I took one slow turn around the Admiral’s head, snipping away at any hairs sticking out, and refining the hair cut over each ear and at the base of the Admiral’s neck. It’s not that I was feeling confident at this point. But I was just too scared to stop and have to look at the results of my handiwork.

When I could not find any more stray hairs, I put the scissors down. I undid the plastic coverlet, and the Admiral stood up. We shook the hair on to the sheet, rolled the sheet up again. And I just kept staring at the Admiral. He had no interest in checking out his image in a mirror. He said it felt a lot better. I know that hair grows about ½ inch every month, and I know that we are very close to a lot of barber shops. However, for now, as I look at the Admiral – and I can’t stop looking at him – I see a pretty good, if tentative, haircut. The cowlick is not exactly tamed, but somewhat under control. The Admiral does not look shorn. Nor does he look like I put a bowl on his head. He went to the store afterwards, and he came back without any tales of people pointing and laughing. That’s a start. Do I want to ever cut the Admiral’s hair again? My answer tonight is a hearty “No way!” We’ll see how his new “do” looks tomorrow morning as we head out on a number of errands around Key Largo.

Now my brother in law has weighed in, with the strongly stated opinion that “women can’t cut men’s hair”, because they “leave a mop top” on top and they don’t understand the “concept of shaving around the ears.” He is so right! Fortunately, the Admiral pointed out the mop top cut I had done, and I firmly believe that we have corrected it. And the Admiral was adamant from the start that I shave thoroughly around his ears. So he was prepared for a potential gender weakness in that area. All I can say, Butch, is that with proper supervision by a very involved victim, I mean client, we seem to have avoided the mop top and the unshaved areas around the ears. But thanks so much for your trenchant insights. They were right on.

I’m not quite confident enough to start sending out photos of the Admiral with his new cut. But once he’s washed his hair and we comb it into submission, I’ll take some photos and you’ll see for yourself. Even if you like the results, please, please don’t expect me to do this for anyone else. There is way too much room for error. I always respected the skills of a professional hair cutter, but as of today, my respect is boundless. My hat is off to the hair stylists and barbers of the world who fearlessly and meticulously cut the hair on many heads each day. This work should be elevated to an art form. No tip is too big for a great haircut! Remember that the next time you sit down in the chair at your favorite salon or barber shop. As for me, I’m retired. If the Admiral’s cut is a good one, then this was beginner’s luck at work. That’s good for just one cut. I can spend the next few months getting used to the Admiral looking like a Yale professor and the next few months after that watching him revert to his inner hippie. Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow!