I went for a haircut this morning. I love traditional barbershops and avoid unisex hair salons absolutely. The place I go in town has the spiraling poll next to the door, three chairs (two of which are manned by barbers in their sixties, well, one of them is probably in his 70's). They greet you by name. A lady walking her large dog enters and lets the customers pet Honey the dog. As I was getting my haircut the other barber started teasing his customer, an octogenarian named Carl with just an efflorescence of white on either side of his dome, about his allegiance to Northwestern Football. "Carl," says the barber, "when you pass they ought to put a statue of you in front of Ryan Field." "That would be nice," croaks Carl, laughing. My barber says, "No, no, what we ought to do is get a taxidermist to stuff him and put him there, maybe have the arm motorized so that it can wave to the fans." "Yes, yes," says Carl, "and my nose would light up."
Immortality!
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