Page One Hundred-Nineteen.
Sometimes I stray from the primary topics of this blog: cooking, feeding children, nannying and being a male nanny. Today I'm going to stray very far. However, This is such an enormous topic that I'll choose to not write too much about it as it's a lot.
I've mentioned that I have a part time job managing a beauty salon. Well, it's an interesting situation for a variety of reasons. It's actually a twenty-five year old salon that only recently changed locations. It had been In East Cleveland, a neighboring suburb, since opening it's doors in the late '80's, but just moved here to Cleveland Heights in February of 2013. That's when I started as manager.
The owner is a lovely woman, Alma, whom I worked with in 1986. I only kept that particular job for a minute, but it was long enough for Alma and me to become friends; we would subsequently stay in touch through the decades. Alma is an extremely fine hairdresser and would eventually get her B.A. in education then her M.B.A. A few years ago a national technical college hired her to establish a new cosmetology program on their national campuses. Today, that's her day job, but she still owns and operates the salon, doing hair in the evenings and on Saturdays.
I have a good reputation as a hairdresser, reaching fairly high status in the 1980's when I really cared a lot about it. I mostly stopped working in salons in the '80's when I went back to college. I've worked in salons occasionally since then, but primarily I've been a freelance hairdresser since '86, doing clients' hair in their homes. Alma has long been the president of my fan club. I was her hairdresser for a number of years, coming into her salon, and cutting her hair with a salon full of clients watching the process. She also encouraged me to get a cosmetology instructors license so I could eventually teach.
Alma is black and her salon was named one of the one hundred best black beauty salons in the world by Essence magazine in the mid-'90's. I was the only white person in my beauty school so I'm comfortable with black hair and a predominately black environment though I've rarely had African-American clients during my career. I'm just somebody who's okay with most people regardless of their age, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, income, nationality, physical or cognitive infirmity, religion or class. Alma knows that. So when she moved her expensive, African-American beauty salon and wanted a manager without an ulterior motive, she phoned me: a very white, Jewish fellow. I do very little hair in the salon, I'm the manager. But I'm considering expanding my role in that area. We'll see.
In the meantime, the salon has some issues. We're trying to rebuild after loosing a large number of clients in the move; Alma, who's half Puerto Rican wants to expand into the Hispanic market even though there are few Hispanics in this part of town; we need hairdressers who will actually be here when they say they're going to be and other issues too numerous to mention. I know the beauty industry extremely well, having begun beauty school in 1978 and having been licensed since '81. It takes a lot to surprise or shock me and I think much of what I see at the salon is normal. But sometimes I just feel like walking around and saying, "can't we all just get along?"
Showing posts with label Hairdressing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hairdressing. Show all posts
Friday, August 9, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
Tea With Brini
Page Thirty-Two.
Around '90, I received a phone call from a woman named Brini. She'd gotten my name and info through word of mouth and was interested in having me do her hair. She lived sort of far out, in South Russell actually. S.R. is about thirty minutes east of me but a pretty drive and I was taking new clients at that time so I went out and met her. By the time someone greeted me in person for the first time, they already knew the story: I came to them and did their hair in the kitchen, or wherever. Considering the service, I was dirt cheap but I didn't care 'cause I was in college and was just trying to make some money 'till graduation.
Brini's husband worked with some of my other clients so that was the connection. He was Vice President in charge of public relations and advertising of a large national company. Their home illustrated his worldly success, it was sheer glamor, as was she. She had to have been in her sixties and quite beautiful. In fact, I once told her that she looked a lot like Myna Loy. She took that as a compliment, as it was intended. We took to each other instantly and I would go out and cut her hair every third Friday afternoon for six or seven years.
My long-lasting memories of her are absolutely dominated by the tea that we would sit and drink prior to cutting. Most visits would see the two of us simply sit together, drink hot tea and chat for up to an hour, before any scissors were picked up. We would talk about anything: my classes, her daughter, her mother, the Shapiro boys, etc. I now know that we talked about what people talk about when they sit and have tea together.
She was of the generation and station that invited visitors to sit and enjoy a refreshment prior to any business being taken care of. I was on the receiving end of that twentieth century, upper class hospitality for those years. Brini would have had great similarities to Brooke Astor or Jackie Kennedy in that regard.
It was quite entertaining for me and I think for her too. She got a kick out of me and told me so. During the eighties and nineties I was sort of punky/grungy/tacky/trashy looking; very different than my personality; which was then inconsistent with my living position (male live-in nanny). This disconnect really mystified people and kept many mouths babbling endlessly like beautiful Vermont brooks. Brini told me that she liked talking with me 'cause I wasn't boring, like so many people in her circle.
So tea with Brini was just one more of those pleasant memories that I look back on and think, "how did I get here? Just luck I guess".
Eventually Brini got a new colorist who insisted on cutting and styling as a condition to coloring. So we had to part. That was okay. I understood. Some years ago I heard that she had pretty bad dementia. Then a few months ago I saw where her husband died. I wanted to go to the funeral but couldn't make it.
We meet so many people in our lives. We know some for only five minutes, others we know for decades. We're blessed when people who aren't with us for a very long time have a long-lasting and positive effect.
Around '90, I received a phone call from a woman named Brini. She'd gotten my name and info through word of mouth and was interested in having me do her hair. She lived sort of far out, in South Russell actually. S.R. is about thirty minutes east of me but a pretty drive and I was taking new clients at that time so I went out and met her. By the time someone greeted me in person for the first time, they already knew the story: I came to them and did their hair in the kitchen, or wherever. Considering the service, I was dirt cheap but I didn't care 'cause I was in college and was just trying to make some money 'till graduation.
Brini's husband worked with some of my other clients so that was the connection. He was Vice President in charge of public relations and advertising of a large national company. Their home illustrated his worldly success, it was sheer glamor, as was she. She had to have been in her sixties and quite beautiful. In fact, I once told her that she looked a lot like Myna Loy. She took that as a compliment, as it was intended. We took to each other instantly and I would go out and cut her hair every third Friday afternoon for six or seven years.
My long-lasting memories of her are absolutely dominated by the tea that we would sit and drink prior to cutting. Most visits would see the two of us simply sit together, drink hot tea and chat for up to an hour, before any scissors were picked up. We would talk about anything: my classes, her daughter, her mother, the Shapiro boys, etc. I now know that we talked about what people talk about when they sit and have tea together.
She was of the generation and station that invited visitors to sit and enjoy a refreshment prior to any business being taken care of. I was on the receiving end of that twentieth century, upper class hospitality for those years. Brini would have had great similarities to Brooke Astor or Jackie Kennedy in that regard.
It was quite entertaining for me and I think for her too. She got a kick out of me and told me so. During the eighties and nineties I was sort of punky/grungy/tacky/trashy looking; very different than my personality; which was then inconsistent with my living position (male live-in nanny). This disconnect really mystified people and kept many mouths babbling endlessly like beautiful Vermont brooks. Brini told me that she liked talking with me 'cause I wasn't boring, like so many people in her circle.
So tea with Brini was just one more of those pleasant memories that I look back on and think, "how did I get here? Just luck I guess".
Eventually Brini got a new colorist who insisted on cutting and styling as a condition to coloring. So we had to part. That was okay. I understood. Some years ago I heard that she had pretty bad dementia. Then a few months ago I saw where her husband died. I wanted to go to the funeral but couldn't make it.
We meet so many people in our lives. We know some for only five minutes, others we know for decades. We're blessed when people who aren't with us for a very long time have a long-lasting and positive effect.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Ace Ventura Pet Detective
Page Twenty-Three.
It must have been 1995 when others first told me that I should be canonized.
On page twenty-two of this blog, I mentioned that I recently gave a haircut to a very young lady after giving her grandmother and aunt haircuts first. Here's another story about that family.
I met them in 1986 as hairdresser. The story of how we met is great but that's for another time. By the early 90's they referred to me as a family friend. (Today they refer to me as a close family friend.) At the time, Mom stayed home to watch the kids and Dad was a doc, a rather famous researcher actually.Well, in early '95 Dad was invited to give a speech in Washington D.C. and Mom wanted to go too. This would be the first time that they'd leave the girls alone. Lisa was fifteen and Ann was twelve. (Lisa is the mom of the young lady who's hair I cut and talked about on page twenty-two.) They asked me if I would move in and watch the girls over this long weekend. I was thrilled as I really liked these young ladies and the money would be great.
The weekend was primarily uneventful, a score you always hope for when leaving your kids with a nanny. (Now-a-days, I do a ton of overnight house-sitting, dog-sitting, cat-sitting and elder-sitting. When I receive the phone calls asking "How's it going" I usually respond, "It's quiet and a little boring, a response you want to hear.") Anyhow, it was a little boring in spite of the fact that I enjoyed these girls. Saturday night, Ann convinced me to rent Ace Ventura-Pet Detective. Lisa had a girl friend over and they didn't join us. So Ann and I popped the corn and watched this movie. Just so you know, my movie taste runs closer to Fellini, Bergman, Godard and Lang. But with God as my witness, I sat through that movie for the sake of this twelve year old girl. Admittedly, I think I even laughed a few times. But Ann was highly entertained which is the most important thing.
When Parents came home and got caught up to speed on the proceedings, they told me that neither of them was willing to sit through that movie. They knew my cinema taste was close to theirs and they mentioned that I really should be sainted.
Lisa and her husband now teach English in South America and Ann is a chemist in NYC. I usually see them when they come home. At least once every couple of years some player reminds everybody else of the time that I sat through that movie. Oy!
It must have been 1995 when others first told me that I should be canonized.
On page twenty-two of this blog, I mentioned that I recently gave a haircut to a very young lady after giving her grandmother and aunt haircuts first. Here's another story about that family.
I met them in 1986 as hairdresser. The story of how we met is great but that's for another time. By the early 90's they referred to me as a family friend. (Today they refer to me as a close family friend.) At the time, Mom stayed home to watch the kids and Dad was a doc, a rather famous researcher actually.Well, in early '95 Dad was invited to give a speech in Washington D.C. and Mom wanted to go too. This would be the first time that they'd leave the girls alone. Lisa was fifteen and Ann was twelve. (Lisa is the mom of the young lady who's hair I cut and talked about on page twenty-two.) They asked me if I would move in and watch the girls over this long weekend. I was thrilled as I really liked these young ladies and the money would be great.
The weekend was primarily uneventful, a score you always hope for when leaving your kids with a nanny. (Now-a-days, I do a ton of overnight house-sitting, dog-sitting, cat-sitting and elder-sitting. When I receive the phone calls asking "How's it going" I usually respond, "It's quiet and a little boring, a response you want to hear.") Anyhow, it was a little boring in spite of the fact that I enjoyed these girls. Saturday night, Ann convinced me to rent Ace Ventura-Pet Detective. Lisa had a girl friend over and they didn't join us. So Ann and I popped the corn and watched this movie. Just so you know, my movie taste runs closer to Fellini, Bergman, Godard and Lang. But with God as my witness, I sat through that movie for the sake of this twelve year old girl. Admittedly, I think I even laughed a few times. But Ann was highly entertained which is the most important thing.
When Parents came home and got caught up to speed on the proceedings, they told me that neither of them was willing to sit through that movie. They knew my cinema taste was close to theirs and they mentioned that I really should be sainted.
Lisa and her husband now teach English in South America and Ann is a chemist in NYC. I usually see them when they come home. At least once every couple of years some player reminds everybody else of the time that I sat through that movie. Oy!
Friday, December 21, 2012
Fish Out Of Water
Page Thirteen.
Age nineteen saw me get my first job as a hairdresser. It was '81. Through connections I ended up working at a salon named Salon: Alpha-Omega. It was located in Rocky River, a far west side Cleveland suburb with a predominately well-to-do population. It's a very white, conservative and rigid community. It's also quite beautiful. I've always lived in Cleveland Heights, still do. CH is an inner ring east side community with a long history of Judaism and heavy racial integration. River has some stunning homes and property which juxtapose Lake Erie. CH has many neighborhoods with 5000 plus square foot homes, many reach 10,000. Both cities were developed during the Jazz Age. Culturally, they have nothing in common. Alpha-Omega was getting ready to open up a new east side salon in CH and hired me to work in the new location, once I was through with my apprenticeship, that is.
I grew up in an old world home. My father came over on the boat and my mother had somewhat conservative beliefs. I grew up in a middle class environment but under no circumstances was it one which might be described as "Prosperous-Jewish-Consumerist," if you know what I mean. Retail therapy didn't exist, nor household bells and whistles. My particular Cleveland Heights neighborhood was very modest. It was just normal working people. Many of the upper-middle class Jewish families who settled in Cleveland Heights during the forties and fifties moved farther east to Beachwood in the sixties.
Alpha-Omega catered to Cleveland's elite. The owners didn't care if it was rich west-siders or rich east-siders, just so long as they were in the social register. I started in July of '81 and the new salon opened in November of '81. (I took the bus to River everyday: two hours commute.) At the time of the new location's opening we were considered by Clairol International to be one of the three best salons in Cleveland with the other two in Beachwood. We were for the rich Wasps and Cleveland Heights and neighboring Shaker Heights had busloads of 'em.
In spring of '82 I moved in with The Van Myms: ubber Wasps. Their family name is well known to American History buffs, general movers and shakers and various other blue bloods. I was the live-in nanny to people who were related to names which are American household words, in fact I met some of those people. Mrs. Van Mym, Amanda, told me that she recognized me from the salon when we first met. The VM's had one of those large houses in one of those extraordinary neighborhoods. Our next door neighbors had to have had 7000 square feet of 1925 ultra-luxury. We weren't far behind.
I had to acclimate to living with and servicing great wealth. It was weird. Home and work were filled with people who I'd only read about. That's an element to both of those industries that receives far too little attention. Sociologically, I was fascinated. Talk about "Gorillas In The Mist?" This was the REAL DEAL. I truly was an outsider, but the level of kindness shown me, in both arenas was generally so great that I didn't feel as alienated as I realize today I was. They were saints actually. Admittedly, my basic personality is colorful enough and gracious enough that it carried me. Though I was so young and naive I could've made PeeWee Herman look like the host of Masterpiece Theater.
As the years would progress, I would be grateful for so much of what I learned in those environments. Many of my vocational and avocational endeavors over the years have brought me into contact with people similar to those whom I met in the early-mid '80's. In fact, many people have mentioned to me that I behave like someone who's been around (and not in the bad way.) And they've been saying that since the '80's. They wouldn't believe how much of my apparently cultured background is really post-childhood.
Age nineteen saw me get my first job as a hairdresser. It was '81. Through connections I ended up working at a salon named Salon: Alpha-Omega. It was located in Rocky River, a far west side Cleveland suburb with a predominately well-to-do population. It's a very white, conservative and rigid community. It's also quite beautiful. I've always lived in Cleveland Heights, still do. CH is an inner ring east side community with a long history of Judaism and heavy racial integration. River has some stunning homes and property which juxtapose Lake Erie. CH has many neighborhoods with 5000 plus square foot homes, many reach 10,000. Both cities were developed during the Jazz Age. Culturally, they have nothing in common. Alpha-Omega was getting ready to open up a new east side salon in CH and hired me to work in the new location, once I was through with my apprenticeship, that is.
I grew up in an old world home. My father came over on the boat and my mother had somewhat conservative beliefs. I grew up in a middle class environment but under no circumstances was it one which might be described as "Prosperous-Jewish-Consumerist," if you know what I mean. Retail therapy didn't exist, nor household bells and whistles. My particular Cleveland Heights neighborhood was very modest. It was just normal working people. Many of the upper-middle class Jewish families who settled in Cleveland Heights during the forties and fifties moved farther east to Beachwood in the sixties.
Alpha-Omega catered to Cleveland's elite. The owners didn't care if it was rich west-siders or rich east-siders, just so long as they were in the social register. I started in July of '81 and the new salon opened in November of '81. (I took the bus to River everyday: two hours commute.) At the time of the new location's opening we were considered by Clairol International to be one of the three best salons in Cleveland with the other two in Beachwood. We were for the rich Wasps and Cleveland Heights and neighboring Shaker Heights had busloads of 'em.
In spring of '82 I moved in with The Van Myms: ubber Wasps. Their family name is well known to American History buffs, general movers and shakers and various other blue bloods. I was the live-in nanny to people who were related to names which are American household words, in fact I met some of those people. Mrs. Van Mym, Amanda, told me that she recognized me from the salon when we first met. The VM's had one of those large houses in one of those extraordinary neighborhoods. Our next door neighbors had to have had 7000 square feet of 1925 ultra-luxury. We weren't far behind.
I had to acclimate to living with and servicing great wealth. It was weird. Home and work were filled with people who I'd only read about. That's an element to both of those industries that receives far too little attention. Sociologically, I was fascinated. Talk about "Gorillas In The Mist?" This was the REAL DEAL. I truly was an outsider, but the level of kindness shown me, in both arenas was generally so great that I didn't feel as alienated as I realize today I was. They were saints actually. Admittedly, my basic personality is colorful enough and gracious enough that it carried me. Though I was so young and naive I could've made PeeWee Herman look like the host of Masterpiece Theater.
As the years would progress, I would be grateful for so much of what I learned in those environments. Many of my vocational and avocational endeavors over the years have brought me into contact with people similar to those whom I met in the early-mid '80's. In fact, many people have mentioned to me that I behave like someone who's been around (and not in the bad way.) And they've been saying that since the '80's. They wouldn't believe how much of my apparently cultured background is really post-childhood.
Friday, December 14, 2012
On Becoming An Activities Professional
Page Ten.
As somebody who gets bored easily, I tend to collect professions, and education.
In the summer of 1998 I'd just finished school... again. This time with a B.A. (my second) in Art History. I enjoyed learning about Art History very much and found it a useful tool. With it, I imagined, I'd be the perfect party guest. With my first B.A. (Interpersonal Communications) I learned to speak with almost anyone. Now with this second degree I had something to speak about. After all, just about everybody likes art, right? So my two degrees prepared me to be a great dinner party conversationalist. I was thrilled.
Dinner party conversationalists can get paid a lot of money too, if they attend the right parties. Therein lies the problem. I didn't attend the right parties. So I became a hairdresser.
I've been a licensed hairdoer since 1981 and occasionally find myself actually doing hair. Such was the case in the summer of '98 after graduating. It was really a case of "nothing else to do, so I'll go do hair."
That particular salon, the one where I worked from summer '98 to summer '99, is a separate story; but come spring of '99 I was getting antsy.I really wasn't looking to leave, but I was getting bored; I simply needed some additional incentive to wake up in the morning. In one of my "flashes of inspiration" I decided to go to a hospital near my home and start volunteering. Innocent enough, right?
So I called University Hospitals of Cleveland which is four blocks closer to me than the Cleveland Clinic and asked to speak with their volunteer department. I introduced myself very politely and explained that I'd like to volunteer to do arts & crafts with the sick children at Rainbow Babies and Children's Hospital. The Nice Lady and I talked for a little while and the Nice Lady explained that that wasn't a volunteer position. However as it happened, on the prior day there was a resignation in the Hanna House Activities Department. Hanna House was U. H.'s post-operative step down or recuperation hospital, she explained. It was primarily geriatric and had a very quick turnover of residents (patients). The average stay was 12-14 days 'cause most people were simply there after receiving their new knees or hips. Some residents were there for other various and sundry medical experiments; new heads, new souls, etc. but really it was a lot of hips and knees.
Activities Professionals are the cruise directors of the hospital she explained. They're the people who provide the cherry smiles, the Bingo boards, the radios and the parties and by law they must be in every nursing facility. Hanna House's licensing was technically that of a nursing facility. She though I should apply for the job and transferred me over.
I left a message on Miss Leigh's voice mail explaining my situation. She called me back and I went in for an interview the next week. The interview went pleasantly but she explained that the job wasn't even posted yet, so the situation needed to be handled with proper protocol. Before Miss Leigh could make any decision, the job availability needed to go out to all hospital staff and she had to interview anyone interested. About four or five weeks later, Miss Leigh called me back and offered me the part-time job. She explained that I would start the second week of July so I could be scheduled for the proper orientation. All in all, from my first innocent phone call to the volunteer department to my first day working at Hanna House it was about twelve weeks.
I was really quite nervous about working in that environment. During the twelve weeks of forced contemplation, I thought a lot about this potential career change. I certainly had experience with elderly, Lord knows, but not in a hospital - such an official capacity! Also, my professional experience was with people who primarily required companionship, not outright care. But I didn't let Miss Leigh know of my serious concerns. After all, I collect experiences and stories. I love to live on the edge and challenge myself. I wasn't going to let a potential new boss know that I was scared to death to actually receive the job that I was applying for.
So that's how I started in the activities field. It was totally out of left field. But basically the profession was a good fit. It took advantage of many of my strengths. I don't know that I'll ever go back into it, but I also know that if I ever try to predict and bet where my life's path will wind, I'm guaranteed to loose my investment.
As somebody who gets bored easily, I tend to collect professions, and education.
In the summer of 1998 I'd just finished school... again. This time with a B.A. (my second) in Art History. I enjoyed learning about Art History very much and found it a useful tool. With it, I imagined, I'd be the perfect party guest. With my first B.A. (Interpersonal Communications) I learned to speak with almost anyone. Now with this second degree I had something to speak about. After all, just about everybody likes art, right? So my two degrees prepared me to be a great dinner party conversationalist. I was thrilled.
Dinner party conversationalists can get paid a lot of money too, if they attend the right parties. Therein lies the problem. I didn't attend the right parties. So I became a hairdresser.
I've been a licensed hairdoer since 1981 and occasionally find myself actually doing hair. Such was the case in the summer of '98 after graduating. It was really a case of "nothing else to do, so I'll go do hair."
That particular salon, the one where I worked from summer '98 to summer '99, is a separate story; but come spring of '99 I was getting antsy.I really wasn't looking to leave, but I was getting bored; I simply needed some additional incentive to wake up in the morning. In one of my "flashes of inspiration" I decided to go to a hospital near my home and start volunteering. Innocent enough, right?
So I called University Hospitals of Cleveland which is four blocks closer to me than the Cleveland Clinic and asked to speak with their volunteer department. I introduced myself very politely and explained that I'd like to volunteer to do arts & crafts with the sick children at Rainbow Babies and Children's Hospital. The Nice Lady and I talked for a little while and the Nice Lady explained that that wasn't a volunteer position. However as it happened, on the prior day there was a resignation in the Hanna House Activities Department. Hanna House was U. H.'s post-operative step down or recuperation hospital, she explained. It was primarily geriatric and had a very quick turnover of residents (patients). The average stay was 12-14 days 'cause most people were simply there after receiving their new knees or hips. Some residents were there for other various and sundry medical experiments; new heads, new souls, etc. but really it was a lot of hips and knees.
Activities Professionals are the cruise directors of the hospital she explained. They're the people who provide the cherry smiles, the Bingo boards, the radios and the parties and by law they must be in every nursing facility. Hanna House's licensing was technically that of a nursing facility. She though I should apply for the job and transferred me over.
I left a message on Miss Leigh's voice mail explaining my situation. She called me back and I went in for an interview the next week. The interview went pleasantly but she explained that the job wasn't even posted yet, so the situation needed to be handled with proper protocol. Before Miss Leigh could make any decision, the job availability needed to go out to all hospital staff and she had to interview anyone interested. About four or five weeks later, Miss Leigh called me back and offered me the part-time job. She explained that I would start the second week of July so I could be scheduled for the proper orientation. All in all, from my first innocent phone call to the volunteer department to my first day working at Hanna House it was about twelve weeks.
I was really quite nervous about working in that environment. During the twelve weeks of forced contemplation, I thought a lot about this potential career change. I certainly had experience with elderly, Lord knows, but not in a hospital - such an official capacity! Also, my professional experience was with people who primarily required companionship, not outright care. But I didn't let Miss Leigh know of my serious concerns. After all, I collect experiences and stories. I love to live on the edge and challenge myself. I wasn't going to let a potential new boss know that I was scared to death to actually receive the job that I was applying for.
So that's how I started in the activities field. It was totally out of left field. But basically the profession was a good fit. It took advantage of many of my strengths. I don't know that I'll ever go back into it, but I also know that if I ever try to predict and bet where my life's path will wind, I'm guaranteed to loose my investment.
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