I’ve been going to my barber Ed for a couple years now. He’s a likable guy who does a good job. In the time he’s been my barber, I’ve learned about his ex-wife, various old girlfriends, his favorite music and movies, and his somewhat misspent youth — in which, he told me, a teacher spared him the miseries of greater responsibilities in adulthood by advising him to go to barber school, where if you were good you could do okay.

I’ve been going to see Ed usually every three weeks, sometimes four. He told me that he’s surprised that my hair grows so fast, and that I have a strong healthy head of hair.

I last saw him at the end of the holiday season. I know this because I wanted that haircut to tide me over during my weeklong trip to Costa Rica at the beginning of January. So really, I was due for another haircut two weeks ago, but I didn’t have time.

Yesterday I called the barbershop where Ed and three other barbers have been cutting hair for years to make an appointment. One of the other barbers answered.

“I’m calling to make an appointment,” I said.

“Of course. Do you have a barber here?” he said.

“Ed,” I said.

There was a slight pause.

“I’m sorry to inform you, but Ed passed away.”

At first, I thought this was a joke. Truly. Barbers are known for joking around, and this sounded like a variation of “Ed’s dead,” which is the basis of lots of songs, movies, books, and so forth. Look it up. (And here’s a link to the musician known as Ed is Dead.) So I said the thing most people would say:

“What?”

“Yeah, Ed died two weeks ago.”

I got some of the story out of this barber, who told me that Ed had complained of stomach pains, and his wife wanted to take him to see a doctor, or even, one night, to the hospital, but Ed put it off. Then something burst in his abdomen, which caused internal bleeding… and he died from it.

“I’m sorry to hear this,” I said. “I really liked him. How old was he?” I asked.

“57.”

“Oh, man,” I said, again stupidly. Big, strapping, kinda good-looking, affable Ed, dead at 57. I wished he’d let his wife take him to get checked out.

“Yeah, I know,” said the barber.

“What’s your name?”

“Albert,” he said. “I’m the barber who cuts hair to the right of Ed. Um, used to cut hair to the right of Ed.”

“Well, Albert,” I said, “Can I book an appointment with you?”

So today I went for my first appointment with Albert. He and I recognized each other. When I sat down, I noticed a large banner newly affixed to the wall directly in front of me at eye level. “We will always miss you, Ed” it said, with a beaming photo on the right of handsome Ed, who had cut hair in this barber shop for 15 years.

One day, someone you know is here. The next, they’re gone. Best to appreciate them while they’re here.

I’ll miss Ed.

Glad to have Albert.

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 13th, 2025 at 10:23 pm and is filed under Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.