A  few years ago, I was invited to a winter weekend retreat at a mountain cottage with a group of exchange students from all over the world.  How did I get invited to such an event?  Well, the woman who coordinates the exchange program is a friend of mine, and she asked me if I would be willing to help chaperone this group of teens.  It sounded like fun to me, so I did it.  I still am young enough to remember that adolescents need to have fun; yet I’m mature enough to recognize that there must be limits on that “fun.”  I got along well with the kids and they seemed to like me, and I liked them.  One of my biggest challenges during the weekend was keeping the girls from getting too “close” to a handsome German guy named Magnus.  Magnus was about 6’4” tall with chiseled good looks and sported beautiful, thick hair that was cut to one blunt length that bounced the tops of his shoulders.  Each time I saw him, he had a trail of girls following him around.  He was a jovial guy and playful.  He joked with me repeatedly about my flattop haircut and said he’d like to have a haircut like mine.  I told him that I cut hair and I’d be happy to give him a haircut just like mine.  He laughed and said, “maybe some other time.”  He was constantly running his fingers through his hair and bouncing it around and obviously was too proud to let anyone touch his prized hair with shears.  He was relentless with his teasing, though, and frequently sneaked up behind me and rubbed my bristle and told me how good it felt.

The weekend was a success.  We all not only survived it but I think we all had a great time.  About a month or so later on a Wednesday evening, I received a telephone call from my friend, the exchange program coordinator.  “I have a problem,” she began.

“What’s up?  Do you need another chaperone?” I asked.

“No.  It’s one of my students.  He’s having a serious problem.  Do you remember Magnus?”

“Of course.  How could I forget Magnus?  He hasn’t gotten in trouble with one of those girls has he?

“No.  Not that…at least, not as far as I know!  He’s really very unhappy in the family where he is living.  You know he is a very bright young man and is attending the governor’s school.  But he’s living with a very blue-collar family that does not appreciate his intellect or education, in general.  They have nothing in common and he is just miserable.  He greatly appreciates their hospitality to him and he did not complain about them at all.  When I talked with him after the retreat, I could tell he was really depressed.  Even his host family could tell when he returned that he was very unhappy.  Finally, I figured out what the problem was.  He did not want to admit it because he felt disloyal to his host family, but finally he agreed that the first part of the year has been very difficult for him.  It did not hit him hard until he spent the weekend with the other students and with us, and he realized just how different his host family environment is from what he is accustomed to at home in Germany.”  There he was from a very intellectual upper class family—both of his parents were academic physicians and researchers.  He is living in a very foreign situation—not just a different culture bit a very unpleasant environment--and he is miserable.

“That is a terrible situation for him.  He’s a sweet boy.  I had several conversations with him, and he is very bright.   We talked about world macroeconomics, Middle Eastern political systems, philosophy, everything imaginable.  I think he needs a stimulating family situation.  What are you going to do?”  I asked.

“Well, I have another family in the same community that is willing to take him.  It’s a doctor and wife and their two younger children.  I’ve met them and they are a wonderful family, and I think their home will be the perfect environment for Magnus.  And he’ll be able to continue attending the same school.”

“Great!  Then what’s the problem?”

“Well, they can’t take him until next Tuesday because they’re going to be out of town for the weekend.  I’ve already told his current host family that he’s moving and I think I need to get him out of that home for the weekend.  You and he seemed to hit it off last month when we were at the retreat, and I was wondering if you might be willing to let him spend this weekend with you.  Maybe take him out to a German restaurant or to a soccer game or something that might cheer him up.  Would you be available to do that?”

“Sure.  I could do that.  I have no plans for the weekend except I was going to a soccer game on Saturday.  I’d be happy to have him stay here and take him out to eat on Friday night and to the game on Saturday.  He is a nice boy and we did get along OK.”

“That’s terrific.  How can I thank you?  I really needed your help.  There is one other thing that I need from you.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, when I was making the home visit to interview the new family, I showed them photos of Magnus from the retreat last month.  Both of the parents reacted badly to his long hair.  The father and their son both have buzzcuts, and the parents said they could not have a boy living in their home looking like Magnus.  A condition of his being accepted by them is a short haircut.  I was thinking that maybe you could give him a haircut while he’s with you?  You are an excellent barber and he likes you.  It might be easier for him that way.”

“Whoa!  I don’t know.  That’s pretty ironic.  He was teasing me about my haircut the entire time we were together.  Have you told him?”

“I told him about the new family and he was very excited, but I admit I forgot to tell him about the haircut requirement.  I was hoping you might do that when you pick him up on Friday.”

“A likely story.  Forgot!  Sure, you forgot.  The things I do for you.  But what if he refuses to have his hair cut?  What do I do then?”

“Well, you can’t let him refuse.  It’s either a haircut or he goes back to Germany mid-year and he loses a year’s credit in school.  There really is not a choice.”

“Wow!  That’s tough.  OK.  I’ll do my best.”

Friday arrived and I had arranged to leave work early to make the two-hour drive to pick up Magnus.  I met him at 3:00 PM.  Magnus was obviously ecstatic about the weekend and his impending move.  He had a grin from ear to ear and grabbed me and hugged me when I got out of the car.  He grabbed his backpack that he had sitting on the front porch waiting for me and jumped into the passenger’s side of my BMW.  “Nice car,” he said.  “From a great country that really knows how to make cars.”  He laughed.

We pulled away from his former residence and began the drive to my home.  Magnus was very animated, talking about many things.  He told me how much he had enjoyed the retreat last month and that he had been looking forward to this weekend with me since he found out about it on Wednesday night.  “Are we really going to a German restaurant?”  He asked.  “I have to say I’m really tired of eating hot dogs and macaroni and cheese or hamburgers.  In my family here, we had that three or four times a week.  Some bratwurst will really be good.  And a soccer game, too?  I’ve not seen a soccer game all year.  This is going to be a great weekend.  I really want to thank you for having me.”

When we were about half-way home and had covered just about every topic of conversation imaginable, I broached a new subject with Magnus.  “You know, Magnus, this new family that you are moving in with next week is a very nice and prominent family in the community.”

“I understand,” he said.  “I heard they live in a very nice neighborhood and have a nice house and everything.  And they have two kids—a boy and a girl.  I know the boy is only about ten years old and the girl is eight, but that’s OK.  I like kids.  It will be fun to be an older brother.”

“Well, there is only one problem, Magnus.”  He looked up at me with questioning eyes.  “They have agreed to accept you into their family for the remainder of the year, but only with a contingency.”

“What do you mean?”  He asked.

“Well, they are very concerned about the image of their family in the community and about you as a role model for their children.”

“That’s no problem.  I look forward to being a role model for them.  That’s what an older brother does.  I will be a good older brother.”

“Well, I don’t think you completely understand, Magnus.  This family wants you to come live with them very much.  They want you to be their older son and the older brother to their children.  But they insist that before you come to live with them you must have your hair cut short.”

Magnus looked at me with horror in his eyes.  “What?!”  He exclaimed.  And then he started to laugh.  “Oh, I understand.  You are making a joke because I teased you about your hair when we were at the retreat.  That’s funny.  For a second, I thought you were serious.  Sure.  I’ll have mine like yours, please!”  He laughed again.

“No, Magnus.  I’m not joking.  I am serious.  This family saw the pictures that were taken of you at the retreat last month and they told your coordinator that they will not accept you until you have had a haircut.  I’m sorry but it’s not a joke.  That is the other thing that we are going to do this weekend.  I’m giving you a haircut so you will be ready to go to their home early next week.”

“I don’t understand.  That’s silly.  What difference does it make to them what hairstyle I have?  It’s just hair.  It’s superficial.  It does not say anything about the man.  It means nothing.  Hair length is meaningless.”

“Well, Magnus, if it means ‘nothing,’ then you should not care about having it cut.”

Hoisted by his own pitard, Magnus looked at me with some anxiety in his eyes.  He ran his fingers through the full length of his hair, pulling it behind his ears, and said, “Well, I guess I could use a trim.  I have not had it trimmed at all since I’ve been in the states.”

“No, Magnus.  You are going to get more than a trim this time.  You are getting a real haircut.  But don’t worry.  You’ll look nice.  I promise.”

Magnus was very quiet for the remainder of the drive to my home, despite some futile attempts on my part to re-fuel the conversation.  He stared at the road in front of us with his impending haircut weighing heavily on his mind.  Repeatedly, he ran his fingers through his hair arranging it behind his ears…trying to make it look shorter, neater, perhaps, unconsciously trying to avoid a haircut.  I’m sure his mind raced trying to figure out how to protect his pride and joy.

By the time we arrived at home, it was about 5:15 and Magnus was a bit more relaxed looking.  We entered the house and I immediately showed him to his bedroom suite.  “You can unpack your clothes and freshen up, but don’t take a shower yet.  I’ll cut your hair first and you can shower afterwards and then we’ll go to dinner.  Our reservations are at 8:00.”

“I’d rather wait until tomorrow for the haircut,” he responded.  “We are going to dinner tonight and there will be more time tomorrow.”

“No.  I don’t think so.  I’d rather we just get it over with, Magnus.  I know this is something you dread, so it’s better to have the dread out of the way so we can enjoy our weekend together.  After you unpack and freshen up, come downstairs and meet me in the library.  And please don’t take more than a few minutes.”

Ten minutes passed and there was no Magnus.  I went into the foyer and called up the stairs.  He appeared in the hallway and came reluctantly down the stairs.  His hair had been brushed back tightly behind his ears and tied in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck.  I was surprised to see the true length of his hair.  The ponytail reached to the top of his shoulder blades in the back.  When allowed to be free, his hair had a lot of body that made it look a shorter—bouncing at the tops of his shoulders.  But now I could see that it was considerably longer than I had thought.

“Come with me.”  I escorted Magnus to my barbershop.  When he entered the room, he looked around and his eyes widened as the chair and assortment of combs, clippers and shears came into view.

“I didn’t realize that you are a real barber,” he said.  “I thought you were just teasing about it.”

“No.  I was trained as a barber many years ago.  You know that’s not my profession, but I still cut hair for a lot of friends and some family.  Don’t worry.  I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you cut your own hair?”

“No.  I wish I could.  I’d do a better job than my barber, but it’s very difficult to cut your own flattop.  It requires a lot of precision that is hard to achieve with mirrors.  Have a seat in the chair.”

As he climbed into the chair, Magnus made an effort to control his situation.  “I’ve been thinking while I was upstairs.  I do need a haircut.  I’d like to have it cut pretty short—maybe take off five or six centimeters from the length.  Then it will be about the length it was when I came to the states last summer.”

“Magnus, I’m afraid that won’t do.  Your new family is a very nice but conservative family and they want you to fit in with them—to be a member of their family.  You will have to have more than a few inches taken off your hair.  I’ve going to give you the same haircut that your new host father and brother have.  I’m sure they will take an immediate liking to you when they see that.  And you’ll look very handsome, too.”

By this time, I had placed the black and white pinstriped cape around Magnus’ neck and clipped it snugly in place.  I pumped the chair up a little higher, though with Magnus’ height, I did not need to raise it too high.  I placed both hands firmly on his shoulders and pressed down.  “Just relax, Magnus.  It will be OK.”  I reached into his ponytail and removed the tie allowing the hair to fall freely over his shoulders.  “Before I cut your hair, I need to remove all the tangles from it.  I’m going to brush and comb it first.”

I picked up a coarse hairbrush and ran it through his hair from front to back.  After several strokes, it was apparent that his hair had no tangles or knots at all.  In fact, I’ve never seen hair so beautiful as his.  Magnus’s hair was a medium to light brown color with natural golden streaks on both sides of his face—probably a result of the previous summer’s sun.  It was very, very thick but silky; and although it did not curl, its body gave it spring when it touched the tops of his shoulders.  The intense early evening sun was shining brightly through the window to our left.  As I brushed, the golden highlights shimmered through his hair.  I brushed from front to back, from one side to the other side and then reversed directions.  Each time, his hair fell perfectly back into position.  After it was obvious that there was not a single knot in his hair, I laid down the brush and reached for the Oster 76 clipper.  I placed the #2 attachment on the clipper and flicked the black toggle switch.  Magnus flinched as the motor roared to life.  Picking up a comb in my left hand, I turned toward Magnus and approached the right side of his head with the roaring clipper.  He jerked his head to the left and turned toward me speaking, “As I said, I think I’d like to have my hair trimmed around the bottom to make it look very neat.”

I turned off the clippers, laid them down and turned Magnus in the chair toward me.  “Magnus.  Let’s get something straight.  You are in a bad situation here.  You were unhappy in your first family…and we all can understand that completely.  You now have a wonderful opportunity to spend the remainder of this year with a terrific family--a family that really wants to host you.  The single thing that they request is that your appearance not embarrass them, and they believe that a boy with long hair would not be good for their family image.  You may not agree with that, but it is their image and their belief.  We have to respect their wishes.  If you do not go to their family, you will have to return to Germany and you will lose a full year’s credit in school.  If you do go there, then you must arrive with a short haircut.  Now, I am going to cut your hair.  So just sit there and act like a man.”

A look of resignation appeared on his face as I turned him back toward the mirror reached again for the clippers and turned them on again.  I laid down the comb and placed my left hand on the back of his head and held it firmly as I moved the blade of the clipper toward Magnus’ front hairline.  The Oster clipper whined as it cut, but even this thick hair was no match for its powerful motor and offered little resistance.  Within a fraction of a second a two-inch swath had been plowed through Magnus’ hair from the forehead to the crown, leaving a quarter inch of bristle.  Over 20 inches of hair fell onto his shoulders and onto the cape in his lap.  With the next pass of the clippers, I saw tears fall quietly from Magnus’ eyes.  But he made not a sound as I finished my task, first removing all the hair from the top and then the sides and back until the cape and floor were covered with length of Magnus’ silky hair.  He looked at me and said, “It’s even shorter than yours.”

I brushed away the loose hair from around his face and neck.  With the #1 blade, I tapered the sides and back and then outlined the cut.  I placed hot lather around his ears and neck and used a straight razor to have around his fresh crewcut.  After some witch hazel and powder, I gave Magnus a shoulder and neck massage.

The short hair made Magnus’ eyes appear bigger and brighter on his broad face.  He was a beautiful young man, even more handsome than he had been with the long hair.  “Magnus, you are a very handsome man.  Yes.  A man.  You’ve made the transition from boy to man with this haircut.”  Your new host family will be very proud to have you as a member of their family.

Magnus had a great time at the German restaurant.  We enjoyed the soccer game together.  We had a wonderful weekend.  And the next week he went on to his new family where he fit in perfectly.  That was the last time I saw Magnus.  I head that he let his hair grow longer during the remainder of the year—never over his ears or collar but long on top.  I’ve often wondered how and where he is today…and the impact that haircut had on his life.