It was already getting serious in May
St. Louis Shari and Jim Stone
Shari Stiver and Jim Stone came to Cape for an impromptu visit. They both returned to Cape last week, my first visitors since the lockdown this spring. Unfortunately, they missed each other by a day.
She was my first girlfriend. Like so many first romances, this one didn’t end well. I think you could use phrases like “crash and burn,” “down in flames” and “train wreck” to describe my reaction to the inevitable breakup. We spoke only when absolutely necessary for the rest of our high school careers and, not at all for the next 40 or so years.
Jim was the one who convinced me that I needed to escape Cape or I’d be a One-Shot Frony forever. I followed him to Ohio University my junior year.
“Can you use the round scissors?”
I explained that I hadn’t peeked in the window to check out my regular barber’s safety protocols, so I wasn’t taking any chances.
She claimed that she was an accomplished hair chopper, and her mother, LaFern Stiver, vouched for her.
Won over, I gave her the OK, but I preferred that she use the safe-to-run-with rounded-end scissors. She demanded that we go shopping for some scarier ones.
‘Taper, taper, taper’
With much trepidation, I allowed myself to be strapped into a chair in the living room, with a towel clipped around my neck. “Wife Lila always says I’m supposed to tell the barber, ‘Taper, taper, taper.’ I don’t know what that means, but I always say it.”
“I do, and I will,” Shari promised, as she started waving the scissors around, eventually causing enough hair to fall on the towel to knit a small kitten.
I hopped onto a Zoom session the other night, and Wife Lila, unprompted, said, “Nice haircut.” Nice to have her approval (or the image was fuzzy).