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…