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In the Barber’s Pole

When I was a kid, my dad and brother regularly had their hair cut by the same barber.

When I was a kid, my mom would pull up in front of the post office, and my brother or I would run inside to get the mail. That was when the post office boxes were still locked with a combination (now they use a key). Our combination was B-F-J/A.

That post office seemed huge to me growing up.

The post office doesn’t seem so big now, but the barber’s pole still makes me think of my dad’s haircuts when I was a little girl.

Me, the barber’s pole, and my small town post office…


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