Ray's Barber Shop Circa 2007, and 1962.




Moon's neighborhood is mostly Dominican with smatterings of Italians, Blacks, Anglos, and Asians. It’s extremely bilingual. The scene in the McDonald’s was amazing to me with orders being given and taken in both Spanish and English as naturally as if the Tower of Babel had never happened. The Hispanic boy behind the counter got my order wrong, but only because he was flirting with a young Black girl.

It's friendly here and I immediately sensed a lot of subtexts within the neighborhood. Little understandings and stories that shape it. There are insiders and outsiders. I'm an outsider but am treated well.

I passed by Ray's Barber Shop near the corner the next day on my way to fast breakfast protein. The guy (presumably Ray) was standing in the window while his employees worked. He eyed me…or rather my poofy Clinton-esque hair. He eyed me like a carrion does on my way back.

Later Moon told me about him. He knows everyone in the neighborhood and expects to cut their hair. A neighbor here in Moon’s building had his own stylist that he went to. Once the stylist was not available and he went down to Ray’s. When he walked in, Ray said flatly “It’s about time. Sit down please.”

So it was no mistake that as a new guy in the neighborhood with obviously bad hair, that I was an immediate mark. I could almost feel Ray’s foot tapping the next day when I went his way.

Walking into Ray’s was like a time warp back to the barber shop in Kensington (San Diego). The same equipment from 1962 (when the buzz in the shop was the Cuban Missile Crisis)…and the same people. I swear. It’s like the shop that time forgot.

I have had this experience before. When I was eight my family and I traveled to Inverness (the one near Pt. Reyes Station) and we went to Vladimir’s Czechoslovakian restaurant. Vladdy was a grey haired old man who made the place fun and poured the wine liberally for my parents as I tried my first oyster (Gah!!).If you go to Vladimir’s today, over 40 years later, it’s the same grey-haired guy tending bar and making jokes and filling your glass like it’s free (it’s not).

Ray actually wasn’t there.. He already sensed I was his and took the rest of the day off.I have to tell you, there is nothing like getting the full treatment in an old world barber shop. They take their time…and yours. As you may or may not have noticed (from my previous post) I lost not only my poofy hair but all my facial hair. And it was a grand way to do it. The chair must have been built in the 20s and reclined way back. Then came the mentholated pre-towel elixir which is like a local. They like you steep in that then follow with hot towels. About then I expected Howard Sprague to walk in and take over.

Thankfully he didn’t.

He grabbed handfuls of lather from the ancient chrome and solid steel dispenser and set up shop on my shoulder with a straight razor...humming the whole time. (yeah yeah…I remembered that scene from The Untouchables where DeNiro, playing Capone, is cut by the shaky barber).

After shaved, there is a ritual of asking how it is and was. Well it is more of a statement “It is good, no?” Then laughs. Yeah.I emerged an hour and twenty minutes later, 30 bucks and 30 pounds of hair lighter.

I was happy…then I remembered when I first saw my mentor Kevin without his mustache. He looked really different and weird for a week or so till I got use to it. I get to see Moon face to face maybe once a month for a few days. Uh-oh…