An Ode to a Barber
In every profession, there are two kinds of people, those who provide you a service for a charge and those who practice their profession and give it their all. An example would be a doctor who gives you a quick checkup and medicines versus a one who is genuinely interested in your life and looks as you beyond being just another appointment or insurance number. The same can be said about barbers and Anthony Cirillo certainly belonged in the latter category.
I had the pleasure of having Tony cut my hair for almost four-and-a-half years. A lot of people complained that he didn't cut hair fast enough or that he made more mistakes than others. The fact is, getting a haircut from this cheery, friendly, and downright nice man, who was in his late-80s, was one of the most pleasant experiences imaginable. His barber shop was a throwback to a bygone era, replete with Frank Sinatra music, really old rifles and pistols, a pennant from the year in the 1980s that the Philadelphia Phillies played in the World Series, and a cash register that was manufactured in the 1920s. His slow haircuts were always accompanied by nostalgic banter such as how the neighborhood used to be before the demographic shift in the 1960s and 1970s. He talked about how great it used to be, with fathers and sons coming in for haircuts together. Then there was the time when he talked about going to New York to be at Times Square at midnight for the New Year, in the 1950s! I would prefer his slow haircuts to the fast, sterile, almost mechanized haircuts that other places offer anyday and anytime.
As other people who have gone to him can attest, he was more than a barber. He was a friend who would listen to your problems if you had any and offer his priceless advice that could only have been gotten through decades of experience in simply living life. There was only a single time in which I've seen him not smiling brightly, that was the time when he learnt that both myself and my roommate were leaving Philadelphia after graduating. Of course, I can never forget his face when he was presented with a Christmas present from my roommate and myself. It was a canister vacuum cleaner with a long handle and we got it for him before he had said before that it was difficult to sweep up the hair from the floor. In this materialistic age we live in, everyone expects something and no one is really surprised. One rarely sees true gratitude and the look on Tony's face that day when we presented him with his gift was one of utter surprise and gratitude. I don't think I've ever received as true a heartfelt thank you as I did that day and I'm indebted to him for providing me that opportunity to see what true thankfulness was.
In short, Tony was one in a trillion. Sadly, he passed away on June 26 and I only found out about it today. My roommate had tried to make an appointment and discovered the phone disconnected and when he went down there, he had noticed flowers in front of the store which had blinds obstructing the view inside. The thought occurred to me to Google his name and that's when my suspicions were sadly confirmed. Perhaps what's saddest of all was that he had to work until literally the day he died. The pain that standing up and cutting hair caused him was apparent to all, so I am unable to comprehend why his children or grandchildren (who were grown up) didn't all chip in together to ensure he had a relaxing sunset of his life. When I told my mother this, she attributed it to the "greatness of Western culture" and on that part I had to agree. Despite all the harping on "family values," any Asian will agree that Western Civilization seems to have abandoned it. It's a society where children are ashamed to live at home after turning 18 and never look back. The "modern" nuclear family has no space for old parents. It's always amazed me how Westerners see their parents on holidays, but grandly have something called mother's day and father's day where they can send flowers or a mug. As one of my friends in India remarked, for us, every day is mother's day and father's day, not one day out of the year. Even if Tony was too proud to live with his children, it seems inconceivable to me that they couldn't together have figured out a way he wouldn't have to work.
Based on my own experiences, I know that he's done a lot of good and I am sure that his next life will be more comfortable than this one was.
I had the pleasure of having Tony cut my hair for almost four-and-a-half years. A lot of people complained that he didn't cut hair fast enough or that he made more mistakes than others. The fact is, getting a haircut from this cheery, friendly, and downright nice man, who was in his late-80s, was one of the most pleasant experiences imaginable. His barber shop was a throwback to a bygone era, replete with Frank Sinatra music, really old rifles and pistols, a pennant from the year in the 1980s that the Philadelphia Phillies played in the World Series, and a cash register that was manufactured in the 1920s. His slow haircuts were always accompanied by nostalgic banter such as how the neighborhood used to be before the demographic shift in the 1960s and 1970s. He talked about how great it used to be, with fathers and sons coming in for haircuts together. Then there was the time when he talked about going to New York to be at Times Square at midnight for the New Year, in the 1950s! I would prefer his slow haircuts to the fast, sterile, almost mechanized haircuts that other places offer anyday and anytime.
As other people who have gone to him can attest, he was more than a barber. He was a friend who would listen to your problems if you had any and offer his priceless advice that could only have been gotten through decades of experience in simply living life. There was only a single time in which I've seen him not smiling brightly, that was the time when he learnt that both myself and my roommate were leaving Philadelphia after graduating. Of course, I can never forget his face when he was presented with a Christmas present from my roommate and myself. It was a canister vacuum cleaner with a long handle and we got it for him before he had said before that it was difficult to sweep up the hair from the floor. In this materialistic age we live in, everyone expects something and no one is really surprised. One rarely sees true gratitude and the look on Tony's face that day when we presented him with his gift was one of utter surprise and gratitude. I don't think I've ever received as true a heartfelt thank you as I did that day and I'm indebted to him for providing me that opportunity to see what true thankfulness was.
In short, Tony was one in a trillion. Sadly, he passed away on June 26 and I only found out about it today. My roommate had tried to make an appointment and discovered the phone disconnected and when he went down there, he had noticed flowers in front of the store which had blinds obstructing the view inside. The thought occurred to me to Google his name and that's when my suspicions were sadly confirmed. Perhaps what's saddest of all was that he had to work until literally the day he died. The pain that standing up and cutting hair caused him was apparent to all, so I am unable to comprehend why his children or grandchildren (who were grown up) didn't all chip in together to ensure he had a relaxing sunset of his life. When I told my mother this, she attributed it to the "greatness of Western culture" and on that part I had to agree. Despite all the harping on "family values," any Asian will agree that Western Civilization seems to have abandoned it. It's a society where children are ashamed to live at home after turning 18 and never look back. The "modern" nuclear family has no space for old parents. It's always amazed me how Westerners see their parents on holidays, but grandly have something called mother's day and father's day where they can send flowers or a mug. As one of my friends in India remarked, for us, every day is mother's day and father's day, not one day out of the year. Even if Tony was too proud to live with his children, it seems inconceivable to me that they couldn't together have figured out a way he wouldn't have to work.
Based on my own experiences, I know that he's done a lot of good and I am sure that his next life will be more comfortable than this one was.
posted by Vivek at 3:54 AM
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