City barber Bill

 Give me a head with hair

Now that it is all gone save the out of control brow and ear and nose hair, it’s difficult now to see what was all the fuss and rebellion when my father would give me a few dollars and tell me to get a haircut.

Ever since the Beatles forever ruined the flat top with the butch wax bangs sticking up, going to Bill Griffis and father barbershop was a nerve wracking ordeal. I would try and give explicit instructions, just a little off the sides, keep it on the ear, etc. Mr Bill would mostly get it right and I’d return home to a father who’d say, why didn’t you get a haircut?

But, on those rare occasions you found yourself in Mr Bills fathers chair, who couldn’t hear, and who coughed the entire time, causing the clippers to jerk, you’d return home in near tears to a father proud you got a decent haircut.

City Barbers

Williston