05:26 - Saturday, Oct. 29, 2005
Robert Gentile
ROBERT GENTILE was a barber in the neighbourhood where we landed when we moved here from canada. everyone called him "bitzy" i never knew why, but he was the very 1st barber that i had in this life. he had cute lil signs in his shop, like "the hurrier i go, the behinder i get" and "this is a UNION barber shop" and he had a real honest to god barber pole out front, and a very colourful huge sign in neon that said, "bitsy's barber shop." it was a circular sign, and inside the barber shop he had 3 chairs, no waiting, and a tv and a row of chairs with magazines of all kinds. he had a partner, jerry, and when jerry died, he got another jerry. he had a "back room" also, and the entrance to it was draped with a curtain, and every saturday there was a card game of sorts. the neighbourhood thugs and politicos came on saturdays to play cards, and i would hang out there for a lil while to shine shoes, sweep the floor, run "errands" and what not. this was also the place were my gang would come and sell the crap we stole from various stores in the area. record player radios, cigarettes, bicycles, and other assorted stuff. Bitsy was a world war 2 veteran, army, and he would sit and tell us kids how he killed all the nazis in germany! I learned in bitsy's how to run numbers, and how to keep my mouth shut. i would hear stories of how this one guy owed money, and coulnt pay, and what happened to him afterwards. my parents were oblivious to all this, at least my mother was. whenever i stole a new toy, and ma would ask, where did u get this, i'd say, "bitsy gave it to me" and that was good enough.
one time, around this time of the year, in school we got these orange unicef milk cartons and were instructed to go around the neighbourhood, door to door and collect money for "unicef" what ever that was. we learned that the money was to goto the U.N. for all the starving kids in Africa. Bitsy would say what a racket that is!! do you really think that money is going to those niggers in africa? no one gives a shit about them!! keep it for yourselves, he would say. just tell the stupid teacher the big kids stole the box from ya!! and thats what i did! and nothing happened!! each year it was the same thing, just another way to hustle money, cause we had none!
then one day, i got a braniac idea, i took a can of coke, wrapped it in foil, and wrote on a piece of paper and taped it to the can; "give to the poor" everyone in the neighbourhood got a kick outta that one!! i went around to the bars and collected cash from the drunks on the stools. then i brought the money home. i would get some of it to goto movies, or bowling or ice skating, or whatnot.
one day, we moved away from the neighbourhood to another city close by. and on saturdays i would take the bus to goto bitsy's to hang out. years passed by and i joined the navy, and came back from boot camp in my fresh uniform, and all the old timers were there, and would regale new people about the stories of how i was a "big thief" and now look at me!! i learned a few things in the navy too, and i felt embarrassed when i went to bitsy's and the old timers were going on about me. it was then i knew that i have outgrown the place. things that happened, and what i saw were of another time, too young to realise what i had seen, but now i know that what i had done and seen there was not right. so it was time to leave.
bitsy died soon after that, and we went to his funeral, it was then i met his wife, of whom all these years i have never seen until then. after the funeral we went to her house to pay respects, and she showed us his army uniform with all the decorations on it. he was a war hero, and his wife was proud of him.
the second jerry had taken over the barber shop, and it wasnt the same. all the old timers were gone, and a new crew was there. i went in to visit one last time, and my old reputation was known, and again i was embarrassed by it. at the time i didnt know any better, but now, i knew better. i was grown up and had started a family of my own. a few years went by, and again i stopped by the old barber shop, and jerry was long gone, having been busted by the feds for various RICO crimes, and the old barber shop was now a beauty salon. by the time my 2nd son was born, even then, the beauty salon was gone, the building torn down and turned into a parking lot. no more back room card games. no more stories, or "running errands" or shining shoes, or sweeping the floor, or hearing stories of men who didnt pay what they owed. i got my lifes first lessons from bitsy and the barber shop, and when i grew up i realised that what i had learned from there wasnt kosher with society.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Don't ever take a fence down until you know the reason it was put up.
- GK Chesterton
WORD OF THE DAY:
susurrus su-SUHR-uhs, noun:
A whispering or rustling sound; a murmur.
Still, the breeze is soothing, as is the susurrus of the branches.
--Michael Finkel, "Tree Surfing and Other Lofty Pleasures," The Atlantic, March 1998
And there came, like the dry susurrus of wind before thunder peals and lightning, a great rustle of excitement.
--Richard Whittington-Egan, "The Edwardian literary afternoon: part one," Contemporary Review, April 2000
He heard the susurrus of curtains luffed by the breeze.
--Erik Larson, Isaac's Storm
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