Dad ran a barbershop at our house. Two chairs and no appointment needed. I remember one customer who paid for his cuts in produce from his little farm.

Dad's partner in the shop ate dinner with us every night because he lived too far away to travel home to his wife and kids in time to eat.

And; we burned the hair that accumulated on the shop floor because back then, there was no trash service in rural communities. I can tell you the neighbors always knew when the hair was burning.

I love how you can see the photographer's reflection in the mirror!

There's also the obligatory girlie calender reflected in the mirror. Ah, the good ol' days...