I swear this guy looks familiar.
Another surprise visit from Eddie. He stopped by the house just as I was getting ready to run a few errands – groceries for supper, primarily. (I’d grown tired of leftover turkey loaf and beef stew, the entrees I prepared for JoAnna and me on Monday and Tuesday.)
“What brings you home?” I asked, pleased to have him interrupt my solitary day.
“Haircut,” he said, pointing to his head.
I thought he looked a few weeks away from one, but Eddie does like to keep his hair cropped short.
“Where are the clippers?” he asked.
“In the cabinet above the dryer,” I said.
When he packed to move into his dorm two weeks ago, I suggested that he bring them along, but he chose to leave them at home.
He also grabbed a chair and placed it on the driveway just beyond the open garage door. I rounded up an extension cord.
“Which attached should I use?” I asked.
“Didn’t you use the ‘4’ last time?”
“I thought it was the ‘5’. You don’t want to look like your junior year picture.”
During a football camp that kicked off the practice schedule, Eddie volunteered, or so he has always claimed, to have his hair cut Mohawk-style. He didn’t like the results and ended up with a shaved head.
He insisted on the ‘4’ attachment, so I went to work. As I glided the clippers around the contours of his head, I was surprised by how much hair fell to the driveway. Eddie’s thick mane is courtesy of the Richard side of the family. Andy was blessed (cursed?) with the thin, wispy, and oftentimes disappearing Nelson hair.
Once I’d finished the haircut to Eddie’s precise specifications – he’s particularly fussy about the stray hairs along the back of his neck – he inspected the refrigerator and heated up a bowl of beef stew.
“It’s good,” he commented, “but it could be a little bit thicker.”
I feigned indignation at this critique, but actually I had thought the same thing after the first spoonful.
At the end of his two-hour visit, I gave Eddie a ride back to his dorm, which is located in an area of the campus that has lot of open space, plus tennis courts and at least one set-up for sand volleyball. As it was a perfect September day, the area was alive with activity. It made me recall the excitement I always felt at the start of each of my years at Buffalo. And for a brief moment, I even wanted to go back in time. But then I’d have to live the last 40 years of my life all over again. I’m very happy being where I am!