Hairy Tales

While watching a movie about life through the lens of a barber shop last week, I thought about our local beauty salon and the unfolding of life stories within its curled and dyed walls. Our little village boasts a beauty salon, not a hairdressing studio, not a gender neutral barbershop or anything of that ilk, but a genuine beauty salon. A hag walks in, a beauty walks out.  The operator of the salon, a life long resident of the area and high school graduate, along with beauty tips, freely dispenses her own brand of folksy wisdom to all who walk through her doors.  

During one particular visit that began with a tirade regarding the current state of the movie and TV industry, she talked about watching a sci-fi flick with her son and remarked that all the shows about the worlds of the future were so desolate and uncompromising. Not one movie or TV series portrayed a better world than the one in which we are currently living. In the future, apparently, universal shortages of life necessities abound, everyone will try to kill off everyone else just to have enough food to stay alive. 

“Life is not better in the future; this ‘here and now’ is the best that life will ever be. Nothing good will happen in the future. It will just get worse and worse”. 

She had a point. Even Lost in Space didn’t have good cell phone reception. I nodded quietly and humbly agreed while she melodramatically emoted and snipped close to my jugular. However, while driving home and pondering her words, I gave fruit to her cautionary tale. Mankind’s life has not improved over the years. The post war generation had the best that life had to offer, but for the next generation, the future is somewhat more dire and bleak. Fortunately, as I like to point out to my husband, we are old and won’t be around to see this godforsaken destiny coming. 

Another visit found her exasperated with a customer who had just left. Apparently the hapless woman was without relatives so her dogs had become her life loves and companions. And, to ensure that the dogs would likewise think of her as part of their family, the woman purchased the same color contact lenses as the dogs’ eyes. Her reasoning was that the dogs would look up at her, see a more familial face and perceive the ancestral connection. Our hairdresser pointed out the absurdity of this situation, because dogs are color blind.

My neighbor in the seat next to me was irritated to discover that her granddaughter, who is in college but working at a local eatery during the summer, and sharing grandma’s beach house, had been inviting her friends over when grandma was gone and partaking freely from the liquor cabinet, then topping off the liquor bottles with water so that grandma wouldn't notice that her liquor supply was evaporating. Of course, once grandma poured herself a stiff one, only to discover that the expected kick was only a light tap, realized what was going on and confronted her granddaughter, who denied everything, had no knowledge of anything to do with liquor and wouldn’t dream of betraying her grandmother in such a  manner. Granddaughter is also going to law school and, as we all know, the first tenet of law is deny, deny, deny. 

Not to be outdone, I included the story of the local handyman around town. He is very good at repairs; medium and small appliances and equally expert with other, more personal,  handyman chores, including, ahem, servicing some of the lonely ladies. These happy endings ended for a few unfortunate reasons: (1) he is/was married, and (2) one of the grateful ladies gifted him with the clap. What followed was equally unfortunate: after revealing his little malady to his wife and confessing how it happened, she (1) visited her doctor, and (2) visited her lawyer. The unfortunate handyman now is single with no happy ending in sight. Since the town learned the story, because the soon to be ex-wife told everyone the story, people clap their hands together when speaking his name.  Ah, but the hairdresser knew the story and knew a few ‘victims’. Evidently his ‘cheer’ had spread far and wide. Yet another cautionary tale learned at the beauty salon. 

And on the 4th of July

We started the evening early on the shores of the Miles River, at the Maritime Museum, under a clear blue sky with only a few thin horsetail clouds.  Surprisingly, for a long summer’s day, there was no humidity, and only a slight breeze to rustle the leaves in the overhead trees that provided dappled sunlight to those of us wandering about below. 

We arrived, laden with provisions, and selected the perfect spot to listen to the Shades of Blue orchestra play tunes from the 40’s and 50’s. The twenty piece band fit inside the old  white wood gazebo. On the grass next to it a temporary dance floor and tent had been set up for the evening and, while music wafted through the air, couples danced, undoubtedly remembering the first time they heard songs like String of Pearls, It’s a Wonderful World, and That Summer.  

We sat comfortably in fold out seats, surrounded by our hampers, pulling out wine and dining elegantly on cheeses, guacamole, chicken salad, all the picnic foods that make such an evening so perfect. As we ate, we watched other people dancing or sitting in little circles, like us, chatting amiably with friends, while their children and grandchildren delightedly scurried after fireflies in the early dusk; little boys in shorts and tee shirts threw beach balls at each other, little girls danced to the music in their fairy costumes, while parents stood patiently in long lines waiting for their turn to buy ice cream and hot dogs. Looking around at the relaxed adults and happy children, it could have been 1850 or 1950 or 2016; the setting was timeless. After we were done with our goodies, we moseyed around the park, meeting up with friends, chatting contentedly about the weather, the music and all and nothing of real consequence, only luxuriating in the peace and serenity of the evening, all the while leaving our hampers of leftover foods and wine unattended. Over an hour later we returned to our seats, everything exactly as was left it. 

After the sun departed the sky, the fireworks began. We moved our seats to the deck for a better look.  The clear view of the calm water provided a perfect reflection of the show that lit up the skies. We unabashedly clapped and cheered, oohed and aahed, at the colorful extravaganza. Several boats were bobbing in the nearby harbor, likewise tooting their horns in appreciation. Fireworks are the only thing I can think of that has improved over the years.  Can there be any joy greater than watching a small child’s excited eyes fill with wonder as fireworks explode overhead. Happy 4th.