I affectionately referred to him as Fat Dave, and joked on this blog about my struggles to engage him in conversation while he cut my hair.
I am a simple guy, no fashion plate by any means, so I appreciate being able to go to my neighborhood barber for the same haircut whenever my hair started to bother me.
Dave’s barber shop (that’s a picture of the pole outside of it at the beginning of this post), is a five minute walk from The House on the Hill. He happened to be within walking distance, so the task of taking care of my hair fell to him.
I never minded waiting (the place was always busy) because I would sit and read the collection of People magazines while Dave took care of his other customers.
When I came back from lunch today, my boss mentioned that she had seen an article on Facebook about a barber from my town dying after being hit by a car while crossing the street to get to his shop.
I asked her the name, and sure enough, it was Dave. I didn’t really know the man, but he’d been cutting my hair for about ten years. I was at a loss for words.
I read the article later, and discovered that this was the second time he’d been hit by a car this year. The accident occurred on the very street I had to cross every time I went to Dave’s to get a haircut.
I also learned from reading the article that Dave had been a barber for 50 years.
I enjoy using the camera on my new phone, plus I knew a photo of my new haircut would get me some likes on Facebook.
I am going to share that photo again. I got a lot of compliments on my haircut. Just like I always did.
Rest in peace, Dave the Barber.
You will be in my prayers…