Teachers...

.... I telephoned the lady this morning who cuts my hair and scheduled myself for an appointment.... she only works a few days a week, and even then, only for a few hours each day.... so to secure her services, one must be both lucky AND preferred.... today I was both in equal measure... she slated me to get snipped as she worked through her lunch break...

.... and so, with homemade cheeseburger in one hand and clippers in the other, she worked her trade on my melon.... and a fine job she did, too.... of course, as short as I keep my hair, her work is more akin to sculpting than what normal people would call a hair cut.... but there you go...

... I parked just around the corner from the bank and slowly strolled along the concrete sidewalk toward her shop.... the door was open when I got there, and a number of elderly ladies were nodding off to sleep... gently propped-up under those hairdryer/chair combinations that you see in the old-style beauty shops...

... I recognized the woman who was sitting in the swivel chair when I walked in... Mrs. Borden... my 3rd grade English teacher... Eva looked up from Mrs. Borden's gray, thinning hair, and smiled... ".. hello, Eric... take a seat and I'll be right with you... " ....

... it was alright with me, of course... I was ten minutes early anyway.... So I just sat and watched the ladies do their thing - mainly, well, being senior citizens.... talking and joking about people that I had no inkling of, and who most likely died years ago... bringing up the news and the politicians who were advertising at each commercial....

... I sat in silence and watched their interaction.... they were familiar and loving... that kind of comfort that only knowing - and liking - someone for forty years can produce.... It is always such a treat to get my hair cut and watch the ladies......

... but today was a bit different... for when Mrs. Borden rose from her chair freshly hair-do'd, she proceeded to say her goodbyes to each of the old ladies in turn... all the while making her way to the door.... and I was right at the end of her route - sitting beside the open door....

... her walk took her from the regimented line of hairdrying machines, past the coffee table laden with Southern Livings from 1984, and deposited her perfectly at me.... and when she arrived, she looked down and smiled.... "Hello, son... you look familiar... but I don't remember your name." ....

...I nodded and sat forward... "yes, ma'am, Mrs. Borden.... I was in the same year as Eva's son... I'm Eric.. "....

.. her eyes widened a bit... "oh, yes!... you were Mike's best friend, weren't you?.... I heard you married overseas and were in the military.... It is good to see you looking so well after these twenty years, Eric." .... and then she bent herself down.... so that her face was only six or seven inches away from mine... and placed her hand atop my head and patted it like I was a puppy...

.... "I've had so very many, many students," she said to no one in particular while patting my noggin and closing her eyes.... "but I loved each one of them... each and every one of them, I loved them all... "....

.... she locked eyes on me one more time before making it to the door and exiting... and then with a flourish of her 85 year old wrist, she eased down the sidewalk and was gone...

... truthfully?... I am not bothered in the least that she didn't remember me... I didn't expect her to... but for a young pup like I was back then, she was a formidable being... and hey, I saw her whip Davy Campbell with a yardstick once back in third grade and she definitely had some moves.....

.. and now - me a grown man, slightly balding - I get a sweet, Southern Granny patting me on the head and mistily dreaming of the halcyon days of her middle-agedom.....

..... if she only knew how I murder the English language on a daily basis for you retards, she'd have slapped me hard, I just know it..... hard... and probably multiple times, too...