When I took the clipper to Tim's full head of lush shiny
black hair Friday evening, I didn't hesitate. After all, I'd
done this since he ever started to need a haircut. It must
be over 50 times. I didn't feel anything different.
The blades went smoothly and left a stripe of skin covered
by a perfectly cut patch of fur. Only the patch seemed short.
For the first time, I forgot to put on a guard (guide comb)!
I saw what happened right away and realized, to my horror,
there was no turning back.
There was a moment of panic but I kept shaving while
apologizing and explaining in a very calm voice to the boy
what was happening. Tim didn't over-react; it did not fully
sink in. "Don't worry. Dad. Everyone makes mistakes." It
must be a shock once he saw himself in the mirror. He didn't
cry but pouted his lips. Afterward, he insisted that I send
an email to Mr. F, his teacher, about this.
Schoolyard cruelty was nothing new to me. Growing up, I
went through it all. The movie "About A Boy" showed it was
probably worse in the West. I started to imagine the bad things
that could happen to Tim and think of ways to ready him for
the coming onslaught.
I sent the email first thing the next morning and Mr. F replied
within an hour. I felt better but something seemed missing.
I wanted to protect my boy but he had to face this, let alone
the future, himself. It's fine to talk common sense and cite
the great Jocko inspiration, i.e., his magic "GOOD." But Tim
was only 11 and I felt something else could be done.
In the afternoon, while Tim was away attending Chinese
school, I went to the barber's shop and shaved my head.
Monday morning, I'm going to take him to school, say
thank-you to Mr. F and hello to the students.
