Stone's Barber Shop
02/23/10 04:41 PM Filed in: Friends
In elementary school, there were two things you could call me that would cause severe distress. The first was “stupid,” which always prompted me to give a quick and sarcastic retort. The second was “girl.” This insult angered and embarrassed me even more and instantly provoked a fight on the playground.
For reasons I sill cannot fathom, my mother and four older sisters believed I looked handsome with the “Dutch boy” haircut. Unfortunately, around town I was often mistaken as being the youngest Murphy girl. My mother told me not to pay attention to the comments, while my siblings thought it was comical.
After a skirmish landed me in the principal’s office, resulting in a phone call to my parents, my mother, with advisement from my father, finally let go of the “Ricky Shroeder” hair-do and gave the okay for the “boys regular.” My prayers had been answered. I was ecstatic. My older brother, Ted, knew there was only one place in Falmouth that could give me my new look.
On a brisk autumn day, Ted and I made the lengthy bike ride from the Heights all the way up to 210 Main Street, which was originally Stone’s Barber Shop and Beauty Salon. I walked into a room full of smiling faces. With shears in hand, all the barbers appeared eager to get a shot at transforming my appearance. That day, Phil, the older of the Stone brothers, received the honor.
“Alright, my boy. What are we doing today?” Phil asked.
I answered grinning from ear to ear, “Boys regular please!”
“Okey dokey, smoky.”
He started snipping with precision. My metamorphosis had officially begun. For the next twenty minutes, our conversation ranged from the slumping Red Sox, to the amazing Doug Flutie, to how “gross” math is. I gazed at my appearance in the mirror and was now able to see my ears. I couldn’t have been happier.
For reasons I sill cannot fathom, my mother and four older sisters believed I looked handsome with the “Dutch boy” haircut. Unfortunately, around town I was often mistaken as being the youngest Murphy girl. My mother told me not to pay attention to the comments, while my siblings thought it was comical.
After a skirmish landed me in the principal’s office, resulting in a phone call to my parents, my mother, with advisement from my father, finally let go of the “Ricky Shroeder” hair-do and gave the okay for the “boys regular.” My prayers had been answered. I was ecstatic. My older brother, Ted, knew there was only one place in Falmouth that could give me my new look.
On a brisk autumn day, Ted and I made the lengthy bike ride from the Heights all the way up to 210 Main Street, which was originally Stone’s Barber Shop and Beauty Salon. I walked into a room full of smiling faces. With shears in hand, all the barbers appeared eager to get a shot at transforming my appearance. That day, Phil, the older of the Stone brothers, received the honor.
“Alright, my boy. What are we doing today?” Phil asked.
I answered grinning from ear to ear, “Boys regular please!”
“Okey dokey, smoky.”
He started snipping with precision. My metamorphosis had officially begun. For the next twenty minutes, our conversation ranged from the slumping Red Sox, to the amazing Doug Flutie, to how “gross” math is. I gazed at my appearance in the mirror and was now able to see my ears. I couldn’t have been happier.
Once Phil finished, I got up from my seat and noticed a mass of golden locks piled around the chair. It felt great knowing soon that hair would be swept up and thrown in the trash, along with all the annoying insults. As I was leaving, Phil handed me a lollipop. “Hope to see you again, kid.” he said with a wink.
Following that day, Stone’s was the only spot I would go to get my “ears lowered.” If it wasn’t Phil cutting my mop, it was his younger brother Dickie, or the entertaining Augie. On behalf of all the men and boys in Falmouth, Massachusetts, I would like to say thank you to Stone’s Barber Shop for being more than just a place to get a haircut. We love you guys.
-Seton
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