Man is at his best when he is at the barbershop. I learned to appreciate this fact during my forty years of barbering. Black men of all sizes, shapes, and ages; the good and the not-so-good; the respected and rejected; the smart and the not-so-smart—I touched them all. I touched that part of their bodies that was most responsible for their current station in life. I saw babies grow into boys, boys grow into schoolboy athletes, and schoolboy athletes grow into men. I saw men become ill, crippled, and die. I saw the employed and the unemployed. I saw men who were murdered, and I touched men who committed murder. I saw young Black boys with potential become young Black men who were hopeless. This collection of men and men-children became an extended family to me and to each other, and as time passed we realized that we had a common destiny, that what happened to each of us would ultimately happen to all of us. Although there were never more than ten to fifteen of us together at any time, I find that by telling the stories we shared, I can bring and keep the whole barbershop family together again and give readers the opportunity to become a part of that extended family.
