* This essay column is written by a longtime foreign resident of Japan.

Way back when we were young kids, I can recall my younger sister, Sheila, and me skating our fingers around the bald spot on our father's head. Were my sons so inclined, I could provide a similar size rink for their digits.

Fortunately, along with a paucity of hair, I inherited my father's relaxed attitude toward incipient baldness. On the other hand, my wife, Keiko, is more worried about me being "hirsutely challenged" than I am. Convinced that seaweed promotes hair growth, over the years she has fed me so much of the stuff that my stomach moves in and out with the tide!

Back when it was the Far East Network, the U.S. Armed Forces Network radio station used to have a slogan, "A little language goes a long, long way." The idea was that by learning their short Japanese phrase of the day, you could use that limited vocabulary to communicate with the local populace.

By the same token, my barber seems to believe that a little hair can go a long, long way if it is allowed to grow on the top, fluffed up a bit and artfully spread around. I'm not talking about the "bar-code" coiffure of former Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone, but you get the idea. Although the barber has reached or possibly surpassed retirement age, he possesses a thick mane of white hair, making him an ideal ad for his profession.

His barbershop is in Oshino, about a 30-minute drive from my house, beyond Lake Yamanaka and before Fuji- Yoshida. My friend Ginju-san took me there many years ago and, although he uses a barber in Fuji-Yoshida, I've been going there ever since. It's not so much that I appreciate the barber's expertise in eking out my scarce natural resources, it's more to do with the fact that once he has cut it the hair always lies nicely after I wash it.

My village has several barbers and I used to get my hair cut by a woman whose premises are near Doshi's solitary set of stop lights, a five-minute drive for me. She has a warm personality and nice sense of humor, but she never seemed to beat my hair into shape and it went wild after being washed.

She was also refreshingly honest: One time I confided that Keiko had pointed out that, for my age, I should have more hair than I do. The barber then asked how old I was and when I told her, she replied, "Your wife's right. You should have more hair than that!"

My three sons preferred to visit the barber down by the junior high school. His daughter was in the same class there as my eldest son, Ray, which perhaps gave them something in common. I once drove Ray to that barbershop and, on waiting for him, was surprised to find my normally taciturn teenager chatting away. Time moves on: The daughter is married and, in the eyes of Japanese society, Ray has become an adult.

Only once did I have my hair cut by that barber. Somehow the personal chemistry was lacking, plus I thought he was too fast and the end result wasn't satisfactory.

Mind you, he was far better than the barber I once went to in Kanagawa Prefecture. Desperate to have my hair cut, I drove way down Route 413 - getting dangerously close to civilization - until I found a tiny barbershop that was open. I emerged from there with an indifferent haircut and bleeding from numerous small cuts to my neck.

You need to have complete trust in your barber, especially if he or she is wielding an old-fashioned cutthroat razor around your jugular or inside your ears!

Not being too concerned about approaching baldness, I like the joke about a young guy who really was and therefore went to see his physician. "Doctor," he pleaded, "my hair's falling out, do you have anything to keep it in?" To which the doctor replied, "Yes," and gave him a cardboard box!

If you have any comments please e-mail me
at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp .

The Japan Times Weekly: March 29, 2003
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