May 18, 2020

Getting a Haircut

My friend David Matlow is pissed off he is not in any of my stories. He doesn’t understand why I don’t tell the chair story. I tell him his version of the chair story and my version of the chair story are not the same.

David and his wife Leanne insist I once asked to borrow chairs from them for a party I did not invite them to.

Which never happened.

I say, “If I tell the chair story, I would probably have to start the story by saying my friend David Matlow is a big fat liar.” He says he is okay with that.

Although he doesn’t think he is fat.

I say, “No, I really don’t want to tell the chair story.”

“I’ll tell you what—I can, if he wants, give him a mention in my haircut in Israel story.”

“A mention?”

“Yes,” I say, “I can mention it in passing. Like, speaking of haircuts in Israel, my friend David Matlow, who lives in Toronto, only ever gets his hair cut in Israel. That kind of thing.”

“A mention.”

David is a bit bitter. He says, “Harold Rosen got an entire”—the time I took him to buy a mattress—“story devoted to him.”

I tell him, “I understand, but a mention in passing is the best I can do.”

“Any chance you can say I own the largest Theodor Herzl memorabilia collection in the world?”

I say, “Absolutely not.”

He thinks about it and says, “Okay, do you want the name of my Israeli barber?”

I say, “Tell you what—let me circle back with you.”

This is the story about getting my haircut in Israel.

I was in Israel for a wedding. My sister said, “Your hair is a mess. Go to Natan and get a haircut.” Natan is her son and my nephew. He is a barber and has set up shop in a small space on the ground floor of his building. I gave him a call. He was thrilled to hear from me. I told him, “I am coming for a haircut.” He said, “Achi (Hebrew slang for ‘my brother’), I am slammed here. They are lined up out the door. Give me two hours.” I said, “I will be there in five minutes.”

Am going to be honest now. The only reason I am writing this story is so I can tell my favourite Natan story. I couldn’t figure out where to fit it in, so I am sticking it right here.

I should begin by saying Natan is one of the most charming people you could ever hope to meet. In a movie, he would be the lovable con man. Actually, in life he is the lovable con man.

Natan calls me up one day and says:

“Uncle Ronnie, I have a proposition.”

So now I know this is going to cost me money. I just don’t know how much yet.

“Okay, Natan,” I say. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

He says, “I want to buy a new car.”

I say that sounds nice.

He says yeah. “I’ll pay for half and you’ll pay for half.”

I say that sounds good. “Where are you going to get your half?”

And he says—I love this part—“That is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Natan wasn’t lying. His shop was full of ultra-Orthodox boys, and some of their mothers, waiting to get their haircuts. He had the music blaring and he was moving in between two chairs. Cutting hair back and forth. He was like Bobby Fischer at an exhibition chess match.

He gave me a big hug.

“Uncle Ronnie,” he said, surveying my hair, “you came just in time.”

I said, “Okay, yallah, let’s start. I still have to drive to Jerusalem.”

He said, “You can’t wait?”

I said no. It had to be now.

He said, “Beseder habibi,” and walked over and turned off the boombox.

The room went silent and he made an announcement:

“My uncle Ronnie from America is giving everyone 100 shekels ($20) to buy candy for Purim.”

He turned to me and gave me a thumbs-up.

The crowd lined up to get their cash. Am pretty sure some people came in from the street.

Then he gave me a fantastic $500 haircut.

I realize I forgot to give David his mention. I got all caught up in the whole $500 haircut thing that it completely slipped my mind. I feel bad about it and put off calling him for a couple of days.

He takes it pretty well.

I tell him I am sorry. I feel really bad about it. He says, “No worries, all good.” The phone is silent for a few seconds. “It was the $500 haircut story?” he asks. I say yeah. “Good story,” he says. I say yeah. “Did you get in the Natan car loan story? I love that story.” I say, “Yeah. It was a bit of a stretch but I managed to squeeze it in.” He says, “That’s good. It is a great story.” I say, “Yeah. Listen, I will try to get you in the next one.” He says, “No worries, Ron. I did tell a couple of people, but it’s all good.” I say, “Okay. I appreciate you being understanding.” He says, “No problem. That is what friends do.” I say, “Speaking of friends, I have a bunch coming over for dinner. Could I maybe borrow a couple of chairs?”

The end.