In praise of barbershops

When I was a kid I didn't understand that the experience of visiting the barbershop was just as much about the social experience as it was about the haircut. I used to hate going. Now, I'm tempted to go once a week. I feel sorry for two types of guys: (1) those who grew up being dragged to a "salon" and (2) those for whom their mothers cut their hair past kindergarten.

I fully understand that some people wisely avoid barbershops for financial reasons. And there's nothing wrong, of course, with a man going to a salon, especially if his haircuts are complicated. Nevertheless, there is wonderful socialization that occurs during regular barbershop visits.

Last weekend I was shopping near 181st Street and St. Nicholas Avenue in New York. I was in desperate need of bed linens and a haircut. After purchasing linens, I walked past Jorge's barbershop, and as I stood there not sure if I should enter, I was asked, "Hey, do you need a haircut?"

I was quickly reminded why I love barbershops. I can remember as a kid not wanting to get a haircut by a man I didn't know holding shinny metal weapons and buzzing machines. At the time, of course, I didn't realize what I was learning. What do men talk about? Why are they watching this game on television? What athletes are playing well or not playing well? Why is that new government policy a bad idea? What's that boxer's name? Women usually do what? How does my father interact with his peers? These were all the questions and more that I didn't realize I was engaging in over the years of regularly getting my haircut.

As I walked into Jorge's shop and sat down, a baseball game was on the TV, without the sound turned down, and music was playing at just the right level to permit sing-alongs. I did get a few stares walking in with a huge comforter and bed linens, but I didn't care. What mattered to me is that for 30 minutes or so I was about to join a community.

My haircut was happily interrupted when the barber offered a short proposition, watched an amazing play in progress during the baseball game, or belted out the portion of a chorus of a popular song. When Héctor Lavoe's song "El Cantante" started playing and everyone broke out in unison singing "Hoy te dedico mis mejores pregones," I thought, "This solidarity and camaraderie is so cool." I know the song well but was humming with group. I was reminded of my appreciation for a former era when American barbershops formed social and musical centers for men that launched the barbershop quartet music harmonic genre.

Normal Rockwell has a number of fantastic paintings depicting the barbershop experience that remains alive and well in a few neighborhoods in America. I suppose I am somewhat of a traditionalist, but it just seems odd that some guys will grow up in America never experiencing something important to the masculine journey for the expediency of having one's hair "done" by "Suzy" the "hair stylist" in a salon.