“I knew I needed to do something different, but I did not know what.”
Off Interstate 15 she sits. Her character cemented as, since 1851, she’s been called the Mother Town of Utah. Her arms open to visitors, and her heart kindled by the spirit one would expect from a town as small as she.
Yes. A blip on the radar some might think she is. Maybe look at her as a slice of nostalgia—a quaint destination. Or a locality that, although personable, is one to pass by and slightly remember. But today, as I sit eating enchiladas and fresh salsa at her local haunt, Calvario’s, I spot him through winter-chilled windows. The expected barber pole turning as, leaned into by a tiny theater by the name of Aladdin, he pulls at me.
I gulp down the last of my Mountain Dew. Exchange pleasantries with my server as, all the while, the desire to know him gnaws at me. I decide to visit…
Across the street and through his doors, I enter. In his chair, a youthful customer. Next to him, his apprentice standing close at a second barbering station. He turns toward me: Welcome.
“Welcome.” Not may I help you. Nor what can I do for you, or any form of a sales-like statement. Simply this… welcome.
We strike up a conversation, and as we do, the shop brightens beyond the inviting gestures extended by the shops’ proprietors.
I begin to see beyond my assumptions of who the less than 5,000 population Parowan is. Once again reminded of just how close we are as breathing humans. And at the center of this review, and as our teachers for today, may I please introduce strangers-now-friends, Barber Jason and his apprentice Richard.
With customer after customer arriving, I recline only feet away from where they are working. Comfortable in what feels like a safe place to speak of both light and heavy subjects. A notion proven as they talked of the different forms of cancer they each survived, of Jason’s divorce and life rebuilt, of Richard’s burnout from living in Las Vegas, and of the priority he places on caring for his 92-year-old grandfather. Two good men they are—both of whom are honest in sharing their deep wells of life experience, as each now settled with spouses and children are living authentic and giving lives.
I ask the big why.
“Be a good person. Just treat everybody fairly and with mercy. Be aware of those standing around you and stop to see their faces. Realize that everyone is struggling in their own ways.”
“That’s a hard one,” Richard starts as he thinks about people he has hung out with, and as he reflects on his lifestyle.
“Being a good person,” he resumes. “Yes, to be a good person. Just treat everybody fairly and with mercy. Be aware of those standing around you and stop to see their faces. Realize that everyone is struggling in their own ways. If we could find out how to do that: I think we would better see what we reflect.”
Richard is relaxed, quiet, and his tone kind: The type of guy that you know has felt deeply and witnessed much. His brief statement defining his number one why: Love.
Love: The endless and unavoidable speaking point that, for over a decade, never ceases to come to the surface in many a Sidewalk Ghosts or RadstoneBLOG conversation. A word that, residing as both noun and verb, is one with reach to either lift or harm. With expansive definitions, it exists. And as I get to know Jason and Richard, I wonder if the very best of the word is the secret sauce to what I sense in the vibe of Barber J’s.
Jason brushes cut hair off a customer next. A teenager with curls that would better the fullness of even Elvis Presley’s hair. And as the next customer (or should I say friend?) sits for a beard shaping, Jason begins his whys.
“I was 30 and going through a divorce, cancer, and an IRS audit. I knew I needed to do something different, but I did not know what. ”
“I was 30 and going through a divorce, cancer, and an IRS audit. I knew I needed to do something different, but I did not know what. I grew up in Parowan and knew the barber there was looking for someone to take over his business.” A finding that eventually led Jason to buy the business, go to barbering school, and ultimately settle in the building he now owns. But in honoring what I feel is the core of who I sense Jason is, I’ll set those stories aside. Or perhaps if you are ever passing Parowan, you can think ahead, book an appointment, and find out firsthand.
The music in the background turns to rock and roll, as with a brief break in appointments, Jason turns his full attention to me.
“My why, I’m living the real life. It takes a lot of work, and it’s not a fairy tale. It’s all about our choices: The right and the wrong, and there are consequences to our choices.”
Yet in further defining his why, Jason includes his purpose as a father, speaks of his role as a husband, and shares the positive impact his spiritual beliefs have been on his life. And in them, the roots of his caring outlook regarding others.
“I knew someone who was sharing a story of one man. And he did make a negative comment about him. I said I don’t mind. I think he’s a good person. You know, because he does have some problems. We all do, and this certain one person has a lot of problems. You never know what a person is going through. They could be dealing with substance abuse and things like that. I did. But anyway, I just treat everyone the same. Any one of us could be in the same position. I try to look at things the other way. If people looked at me the same negative way, well yeah! But I came back.”
The door opens as the next customers arrive. A sign that, perhaps, it’s time for me to go. But in closing this story, there is one last detail I know I must share. One that I hope can be translated as a metaphor for our individual circumstances—especially if you are dealing with hard things or painful secrets.
Around me, a construct of lumber, stone, and metal lives. A from that within decades past has been broken, tempered, and restored: The very building itself.
A dilapidated structure that once ignored, decayed, and weary, is now rebuilt from the dust. An old and worn down monument to experiences gone by, or better yet, a catalyst of hope for the future. Falling walls that, in 2002, are ones that Jason purchased for a mere dollar. An overlooked lot that, perhaps labeled as ugly and unworthy in the eyes of many a beholder, is now reborn. Now beautified and visible with the repurposed material of the original build, are rejuvenated and wanted. A safe haven to all who enter its doors, and a space that cared for by the hearts of its human inhabitants, can inspire us all. Or even remind us that no matter how damaged or proud we may be, we can emerge healed, loved, and valued.
So to Jason and Richard, please accept my hand of friendship. For, I was cold as I entered your establishment. Yet as I resume my drive, I realize I’m carrying the warmth of your welcome.
Talk tomorrow my good friends,
Richard
