The “R” Question
I’m sitting in a barbershop in Northwest Arkansas probably 15 years ago when the obligatory barber conversation started:
Me: “Just give me a low fade, kinda like a national guard cut.”
Barber: “Oh, are you retired?”
I frown and stay silent for a minute.
Because, well, ‘one of these things is not like the other.’
I don’t know why that was her go-to question.
“Are you retired?”
All I communicated was the description of the haircut I wanted.
And, for the record, I have hair, unlike a lot of people my age. No offense Satsuma High School class of 1981, but I’ve seen your Facebook photos.
I mean not all of my hair has disappeared yet. I still have combable hair.
Also, I didn’t think that I looked old enough to retire. I suppose one can retire at any age, but there is a societally accepted age for such.
Isn’t there?
So why the, “have you given up on life yet” type of question?
Again. IDK.
But, I told her succinctly, promptly, and quickly that I was actually not retired and that I was happily serving in the Army Reserve, thank you very much.
She apologized, sort of, and continued to cut my hair.
I’ve told that story to each succeeding barber from whom I’ve sought haircuts. If they were old enough, they seemed to understand.
This all brings me to last week.
Last week, after over 22 years of occasional gainful employment in the Army Reserve as a JAG officer, I retired.
As a bonus, I still have hair.
Although, I am acutely aware that I shouldn’t be saying that too loudly.
