The Mayor of BOOMTOWN
THE 35 CENT MIRACLE
By Greg Budell
"A true story from the Greg files"
I don’t live in luxury’s lap, but I have experienced it.
lawnmower. I mean the clippers.
I’ve owned many fine I missed a step! Before cars. I have had hot stone the clippers roared to life, massages at The Breakers he wrapped The Sheet in Palm Beach. I’ve flown around our necks. It was first class dozens of an old bed sheet, blue in times including a flight to color, with a thread count Paris during which I was of 12. When Dad shook allowed a brief moment out The Sheet, it would in the co-pilot’s seat on hang stiffly in mid-air a Boeing 747. That was before giving in to gravity. frickin’ amazing! I looked out the right-side cockpit I forgot The Light! The window and all you can Chair was placed under see is endless wing. It is an open bulb, probably then, and only then, that salvaged from a Japanese Greg protects the family dog and sister Jody from "The Clippers" you can appreciate the skill POW camp- a bulb that required to bring tons of jet, plus the could MAKE YOU TALK! experience in an otherwise happy souls on board, to a smooth landing childhood. on a relatively small strip of concrete. Dad supplied the rest of the fun with The Grip. As a do-it-yourselfer, he If Saturday night began as he watched The co-pilot’s seat itself is not must have feared shearing off one Lawrence Welk on TV, my brother and particularly luxurious. The view from it of our ears if we moved the slightest I were safe for that week. If he pulled is, and rather humbling at that. while his clippers roared about The Chair out in our basement rec our heads. I’m sure one of these area, we were doomed. Yet (in honor of Father’s Day) I’m tormentuous haircuts lasted no more First, The Clippers. My Dad owned the writing about my first rendezvous with than 15-20 minutes. When Pops only gasoline powered hair clippers in regal treatment- my first experience in would announce “almost done” that Chicago. They smelled like a confused a real, professional barber shop. meant “almost halfway”. On a hot fossil fuel, a cross between gasoline Saturday night in Summer, (no AC in and motor oil. I swear they had a My Dad was no cheapskate. A product our house at the time) 20 minutes on pull starter, too. The only appliance of the Great Depression, he knew The Box, under The Sheet, with the in our home that was louder was our poverty growing up. Real poverty. roar of The Clippers while enduring lawnmower. After serving in the Navy through 4 The Grip, well it just seemed like years of hellish Pacific campaigns, he forever. For maximum cutting leverage The joined Chicago’s building department Chair was topped by The Box. The after the war. He stayed at the job The finishing touch was provided wooden, splintery box. For easy post until retiring in 1982. He made a very by The Brush. Since a shower after haircut cleanup, we climbed on top nice living. My three siblings and I the haircut was mandatory, I never of the box wearing only our tightywanted for nothing. However, if he understood why Pops would insist whities. could save a buck by becoming Yoric on brushing the fallen hairs off our the Home Barber, why not? shoulders, but he did. Our family At the stroke of 6, just as Lawrence rake had softer bristles. Vit-vit-vit-vit! Welk and his bubble machine were His haircuts were a dreadful So, with raw shoulders, I’d gain my making happy on TV, Dad started the
58 BOOM!
June 2022
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