For me that Friday before Christmas Eve was the most depressing day of the year. Nothing much happened at school to take my mind off what was coming, and so when I started walking home I was dragging my feet. My Catholic neighbor on the corner was building a brick wall in his backyard, and there was a pile of sand in his driveway. Since I was a Seventh-day Adventist and hence the sworn enemy of all Catholics, particularly the Pope, I felt justified in kicking the pile of sand vigorously two or three times.
Just as I dreaded, my father was giving my neighbor a haircut out back by the garage. Since he only charged a dollar, he usually cut three or four heads of hair every Friday. I thought his haircuts were hideous. He almost shaved the temples and only let short hair exist on the top of the head. To make matters worse, he had used gasoline to “dry clean” his Sabbath suit. It was on a hanger hooked to a bar inside the open garage door. I couldn't believe the man getting haircut didn't complain about the smell.
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