The Christmas story of Jack, the one eyed barber.
Down on South Portland Avenue, in Oklahoma City, was the Sunday Barbershop. The name came about because the proprietor, Jack, who had lost an eye in the distant past, was not a union barber. He kept his shop open on Sunday and Monday, when all the other barber shops were closed. Of course, as with most barbers, his busiest day was Saturday, when Dads and their sons, and a few daughters, came down for a haircut. Whatever Jack may have lacked in vision, he made up for in longevity. I know that Jack, TOEB, was on duty from the 1960s at least well into the 1990’s.
Now Jack had a rare sense of humor. He could start work on a head of hair, and begin a story or joke that might be finished in one visit, or maybe several. By far, the best that Jack had to offer was his annual Christmas story. A story that bears repeating in these days of political correctness, when a good laugh brings relief to the hearts of those who were touched by Jack’s shrewd understanding of human nature, as well as the once innocent bystanders who knew from experience, what was about to happen. There must be families that still share the story of how much Mothers loved the entire experience.
Even before the leaves began to fall from the trees, Jack would start the story. If the child laughed, Jack knew that he had already told this kid the story, so he would talk about one of the many other subjects that barbers share with their patrons.
Some patrons began to study the dogs playing poker. Everyone else in the Barbershop hid behind a hunting or fishing magazine to hide their grin.
“Is your daddy going deer hunting this year”. Was the lead-in. Jack would then extol the wonderfulness of daddy getting a deer. “Cause nothing is better than the whole family sitting down to Mom’s venison roast.”
On the next visit, it was “Did daddy get that giant buck down by the (river/mountain/etc.)? Oh, the season hasn’t ended yet, so there is still a good chance”.
Next visit, as soon as deer season was over, it was “Well, did daddy get a couple of deer for the family this year?” Whether the answer was “Yes” or “No”, Jack would begin the next phase. “Sure would be nice if you could help daddy get a deer”.
Before the haircut was finished, Jack would set the hook.
“You know, they don’t really tell the whole story to little kids, but you’re old enough now”. “Santa can’t really put ALL the toys in his sleigh for everyone in the world. Santa has a fleet of trucks that go out on Christmas Eve, all over the world. Santa fills up the sleigh and makes deliveries all over a town and then he flies to the next town and meets that truck. It is really a busy night for Santa”.
“Lately, one of the reindeers, Rudolph, has been really bad. He is a bully and bites the other deer and sometimes he even kicks Santa and Mrs. Claus. Sometimes he even jumps up on top of the sleigh and breaks the poor kid’s toys by jumping up and down on them”.
“This Christmas eve, why don’t I come over to your house? All we have to do is to shoot Rudolf. That way, daddy can see what a big (boy/girl) you are now. Your mom can cook Rudolf for Christmas dinner, and you can have all the toys in the truck. You can share them with all your friends and all the poor children too.”
According to Jack, his phone began to ring around 9PM each December 24.
Irate mothers yelling and screaming on the phone, “Why did you tell my kid he/she could kill Rudolph?”. “What’s this about a truck full of toys parked around the corner?” “Are you crazy?”
Somehow, the line between reality and fable had become a little fuzzy for mom.
Daddy somehow kept a straight face.
HH & Merry Christmas everyone!
John Morton
Down on South Portland Avenue, in Oklahoma City, was the Sunday Barbershop. The name came about because the proprietor, Jack, who had lost an eye in the distant past, was not a union barber. He kept his shop open on Sunday and Monday, when all the other barber shops were closed. Of course, as with most barbers, his busiest day was Saturday, when Dads and their sons, and a few daughters, came down for a haircut. Whatever Jack may have lacked in vision, he made up for in longevity. I know that Jack, TOEB, was on duty from the 1960s at least well into the 1990’s.
Now Jack had a rare sense of humor. He could start work on a head of hair, and begin a story or joke that might be finished in one visit, or maybe several. By far, the best that Jack had to offer was his annual Christmas story. A story that bears repeating in these days of political correctness, when a good laugh brings relief to the hearts of those who were touched by Jack’s shrewd understanding of human nature, as well as the once innocent bystanders who knew from experience, what was about to happen. There must be families that still share the story of how much Mothers loved the entire experience.
Even before the leaves began to fall from the trees, Jack would start the story. If the child laughed, Jack knew that he had already told this kid the story, so he would talk about one of the many other subjects that barbers share with their patrons.
Some patrons began to study the dogs playing poker. Everyone else in the Barbershop hid behind a hunting or fishing magazine to hide their grin.
“Is your daddy going deer hunting this year”. Was the lead-in. Jack would then extol the wonderfulness of daddy getting a deer. “Cause nothing is better than the whole family sitting down to Mom’s venison roast.”
On the next visit, it was “Did daddy get that giant buck down by the (river/mountain/etc.)? Oh, the season hasn’t ended yet, so there is still a good chance”.
Next visit, as soon as deer season was over, it was “Well, did daddy get a couple of deer for the family this year?” Whether the answer was “Yes” or “No”, Jack would begin the next phase. “Sure would be nice if you could help daddy get a deer”.
Before the haircut was finished, Jack would set the hook.
“You know, they don’t really tell the whole story to little kids, but you’re old enough now”. “Santa can’t really put ALL the toys in his sleigh for everyone in the world. Santa has a fleet of trucks that go out on Christmas Eve, all over the world. Santa fills up the sleigh and makes deliveries all over a town and then he flies to the next town and meets that truck. It is really a busy night for Santa”.
“Lately, one of the reindeers, Rudolph, has been really bad. He is a bully and bites the other deer and sometimes he even kicks Santa and Mrs. Claus. Sometimes he even jumps up on top of the sleigh and breaks the poor kid’s toys by jumping up and down on them”.
“This Christmas eve, why don’t I come over to your house? All we have to do is to shoot Rudolf. That way, daddy can see what a big (boy/girl) you are now. Your mom can cook Rudolf for Christmas dinner, and you can have all the toys in the truck. You can share them with all your friends and all the poor children too.”
According to Jack, his phone began to ring around 9PM each December 24.
Irate mothers yelling and screaming on the phone, “Why did you tell my kid he/she could kill Rudolph?”. “What’s this about a truck full of toys parked around the corner?” “Are you crazy?”
Somehow, the line between reality and fable had become a little fuzzy for mom.
Daddy somehow kept a straight face.
HH & Merry Christmas everyone!
John Morton
