My barber's name is Henry. I'd assume he is somewhere between the ages of 65 and 75 but I couldn't say for sure. I'd also go so far as to assume - based on our limited conversation - that he's spent most of his time in rural Nova Scotia and that he is not incredibly highly educated. What's more important is his health and what he does. Consider it a matter of efficiency, learning a skill or trade, or merely concentration but no matter how you look at it, he can cut hair to a fairly standard style very consistently. What makes this interesting, separating him from I'm sure of what is over 99% of other barbers is his having Parkinson's. Whilst his lip chatters as if he were about to break down in tears and as if his free hand was waving to passers by, there is a pronounced shake and jitter to his behavior. As soon as he lifts his scissors, his clippers or his comb though, his hand becomes rigid and as steady as my hand or yours.
When Henry wasn't chatting with me, he was chattering. The rhythm of his teeth hitting would almost put me to sleep for those few minutes, giving me a rare moment to reflect. Why does Henry cut hair? Surely a man so old would want to spend his time doing what you'd expect so many men and women his age want to do. Does Henry want to spend his days idling, looking through his window? Playing bingo on Sunday nights? Watch his grandchildren and great-grandchildren ignore him as they immerse themselves in their tech-toys and play with their like-minded friends?
I think not. I think Henry turns to cutting hair as a sanctuary of sorts. Something that has changed very little - at least in Antigonish - over the last 60 to 70 years. Henry is safe from the world, changing what may seem like blistering pace a times. He is safe from idling, safe from succumbing to Bingo on Monday nights and safe from his grandchildren (who he loves so much). He is safe from Parkinson's. As soon as he lifts his scissors, his hands calm, his passive gaze shifts to a focused, creative stare and he is safe.
I cancelled my phone plan today. I went into the Bell store, hoping to receive some sort of return on a deposit I had made 6 months ago while signing my contract. However, as the online method of payment for Bell's customers is less than perfect, one of my bills did not get paid on time. (I found all of this out over the phone, while at the store. I started speaking with the Hailey at the counter and just as soon as I could say deposit, she had picked up the phone and put me on hold with their 1-800 customer service department. I don't know what Hailey's job description entails.) So as it goes, I was not granted my refund and to go even further, I was denied a suspension of my account. By this, I mean that I was not allowed to put my plan on hold for the 4 months that I will not be in Canada this summer. I was put on hold. ("Hold please while I learn things that I should have learned while taking weekend courses for this low-paying job.) I cancelled my plan and I went for a walk and took pictures. I am safe. I am safe from expectation. I am safe from the monthly bill. I am safe, most importantly from routine and the threat of regularity.
What makes you safe and what are you safe from?
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