Watchn' Daddy Shave

Most little boys idolize their dad and I was no exception. My dad could walk on water I thought as I followed him most everywhere he went while at home. Dad was use to working at nights so most of the day he was in bed asleep, if you can sleep very well with three boys at home. Of course there was always Peggy, but if she wasn’t in school she was working. Besides, girls don’t make noise like boys do. I tried to be as quite as a little boy could be.

Mom was forever saying shhh, or "you boys be a little quieter." It was different in the summer time. We could play outside. That meant baseball in the summer or football in the later weeks of summer into fall. But whatever we played, we kept an ear pealed to hear our mother’s voice. Moms would just open the door and holler, "boys, its supper time," and that usually ended the game no matter what we were playing. You take three brothers out of the game and that’s just about one team.

Depending on what day of the week it was we boys knew just about what we were having for supper. Mom always woke dad up in time to bathe before supper and sometimes dad would come to the table with his hair still wet. I would notice that he hadn’t shaved yet and was probably going to wait until after supper while mom was washing the dishes. Jim and Jack would run back out to play, but I would usually stay behind to watch my daddy shave. I was fascinated by the tiny hairs that grew out of his face each day. While he was testing the water temperature and getting down his old shaving mug and brush, dad and I would talk. This was the best time of day to talk ‘man to man’ and some of my best remembrances was when I would sit on the side of the bathtub while dad was lathern’ up that old brush and shavin’.

He would first wet the brush with warm water and work up a good lather in the mug of shave’n soap, but before he lathered his face he would warm a washcloth, then quickly wrap his face in it for a few minutes. I learned it was best to wait and not ask him any questions during this time because all the little hairs wouldn’t get soften up and his shave wouldn’t be as comfortable. Some times my dad would whistle and I knew it was okay to start talkin’. I found my dad was really smart havin’ no more than a third grade education. I figured he was just self-taught.

After he removed the washcloth he would brush on the shave’n soap quickly. Then, taking his old Gillette double-edged razor; and turning his head from side to side and up and down while looking in the mirror he proceeded to shave all those little hairs that had grown out since yesterday about this time.

We would talk about anything and everything. This was a time reserved for the two of us to converse while the young man learned from his dad.