I kept driving past this barber shop in the Lindenwald section of Hamilton and one day I finally decided I would stop in and talk to the owner. The shop turned out to have even more character when I stepped inside. From the ceiling hung hundreds of antique lanterns. An antique cash register, a metal cabinet lined with magnets, someone's cut off ponytail, hilarious signage, and family portraits - these were among the things I first noticed when walking in. Then, out from the back of the small room attached to a house, came the owner who I would find to be named Homer Gross (explaining why it was called Gross Barber Shop). He had on a checkered shirt with rainbow suspenders and a head full of whispy white hair. He said he had been there for 56 years (as the sign also stated in the window) and he had only raised the price of haircuts once in that time. There was so much to look at in the shop and Mr. Gross was more than gracious enough to allow me to take photos of both the shop and himself. 

I had seen Mr. Gross off and on at the store I was working at as a Photo Lab Technician near his neighborhood. I don't think he really remembered me much. More than a year after my first visit, I went back to Gross Barber Shop deciding to actually get a hair cut. This time there were actually other customers there - a small boy was in the seat and his grandfather was waiting. After they were finished it was my turn. I tried to jog his memory of our first meeting, but he said he didn't remember. I wish I could say it was the best haircut I'd ever gotten, but unfortunately it came out pretty terrible. It wasn't evenly cut, some areas on top of my head were cut while others were left at the same length (I went home and finished cutting some of the spots myself). While he was cutting my hair I noticed he had a bit of a tremor in both his jaw and his hands that I hadn't noticed on my first visit. He might have been a great barber at one time, but I caught him too late. We talked through the entire cut about the city, his history, and, well, hair. So while the cut itself came out terrible, the experience was well worth it.

A few years after my second visit, I was working in the area as a letter carrier for the United States Postal Service. Gross Barber Shop happened to be the first stop on one of the longest and hardest walking routes in the office - a route I would actually come to appreciate as a result of carrying it so often. One morning, I talked to a younger man who came out of the house behind the shop. I hadn't seen Mr. Gross in his shop for quite some time and so I asked about him. The man said he was Homer's grandson and that Homer had passed away. He said that one night Homer was walking to his car from church. While crossing a busy intersection Homer was struck by a vehicle and killed. This news shocked me. I hadn't heard anything about this accident in the news or if I had I certainly didn't know it was Mr. Gross who was killed. All day I remembered the few times I had visited him, the times I had said hello to him in my store and he didn't know who I was, the time he cut my hair. I always wanted to go back and document his shop in color or make a video with him and I never got around to it. It just makes that original experience so much more important and I love having this story to tell.