RIP LUIGI
I posted “The
Barber Shop” two years ago. Yesterday I
suddenly received hit after hit on this post.
The viewer’s came from all around NJ and from many states as far away as
North Carolina, Florida, Michigan and even Oregon. My first thought was
that Luigi was ill. A little research
and my worst fears were confirmed. Luigi
passed away April 17, 2013.
I only knew
Luigi the barber, not Luigi the man. I
suspect he was a strict but loving father, a loyal loving husband and a big
mush of a grandfather. I know his shop
and his persona were landmarks in this small town. If he could have charged for his common sense
and his entertainment as well as for his haircuts he would have left this world
a multi-millionaire.
RIP Luigi, we
will not see your kind again…you will be missed.
THE BARBER
SHOP (From November 2011)
I can remember going to the barber
and watching men get a shave. This shave involved a steaming hot towel, hot
lather, and a very sharp very scary straight edge razor. I have not seen anyone
get a traditional barber shop shave in thirty years. I cannot remember when I
last saw a “traditional” barber who was under the age of fifty.
The local barber shop used to be so
popular, and the haircut/shave combination so common that the famous seven note
musical couplet often inserted comically at the end of a song, “Dump diddly dum
dum….dum dum” was sung, “Shave and haircut…two bits.”
I still go to a traditional local
barber shop, “Luigi’s” in Metuchen, New Jersey. Luigi has a two chair shop. The
shop is generally busy, especially on Saturdays, but there is never a long
wait. Luigi’s customers are mostly old farts like me, customers who don’t want
the total bald look, and refuse to get a cut at a fancy “Women’s Hair Salon.”
My sister-in-law operates the best salon in my new town, and gives an excellent
male haircut or trim, at no charge to family, and still I prefer Luigi’s.
Luigi’s has a certain charm. It has a
special barber shop smell, a unique atmosphere and of course it has Luigi.
Luigi is a bull of a man. He has worked his chair for over forty years. His
opinions are as full and thick as his hair and his Italian accent. Luigi has
opinions on everything, and it takes very little prodding for him to voice
them. There are never any arguments at Luigi’s. Whenever an opinion is offered
it is immediately agreed upon by all present. I think that is an unwritten
Luigi rule. “That’s right”, and “attsa right” are the most common responses to
any opinion no matter how farfetched.
On Saturdays some people come to Luigi’s just to kill time. They come to chat with Luigi and I half expect them to pull up a chair and play checkers. People stop by with free food, sandwiches from the deli across the street which Luigi claims, “They make a the best a sandwich in town. The mutsarell is a fresh in a watt (water).” Locals sometimes stop by to share a pizza pie, and Luigi always has fresh donuts and lollypops; lollypops for the kids, donuts for the grownups.
On the second chair is Luigi’s
cousin, Mia. Mia is a short lady with very big hair. She wears shoes which add
at least six inches to her stature, and if pirates allowed women on their
ships, they would have looked like Mia. On Saturdays some people come to Luigi’s just to kill time. They come to chat with Luigi and I half expect them to pull up a chair and play checkers. People stop by with free food, sandwiches from the deli across the street which Luigi claims, “They make a the best a sandwich in town. The mutsarell is a fresh in a watt (water).” Locals sometimes stop by to share a pizza pie, and Luigi always has fresh donuts and lollypops; lollypops for the kids, donuts for the grownups.
Mia is my barber. I am not sure how I
was assigned to Mia, but Luigi will not cut my hair. I am Mia’s customer. I
thought I was special because Mia calls me Guy. “You a nex, Guy.” Turns out she
calls every one Guy. Mia makes ninety-seven percent of the conversation in her
chair, usually an interpretation of a dream. I understand about fifty percent
of the ninety-seven.
When Spencer, my youngest went for
his first haircut, one of the local kibitzers was calling him a sissy because
he was afraid of the scissors. Mia turned to this clown and pointing the
scissors at him menacingly said, “He no sissy a boy! How you like I poke a you
eye out eh?” The kibitzer shut up, grabbed a donut, and quietly left the shop.
It will be irreplaceable.





