put me down for a plum

I was reminded a day or two ago about a fellow Albany freshman.  His name was/is Mike and from what I understand he is now a very successful physician.

We lived in the same dormitory on the same floor.  The dorm was set up like a huge H.  Three floors of H,  Rooms along the horizontal line that connects the vertical lines of the H, and rooms on the two vertical lines on the three floors. Where the vertical lines met the horizontal lines there were community bathrooms with gang showers, a line of sinks, urinals and stalls.  

Mike had put up a sign in the bathroom mirrors on our wing advertising that he had taken a barber shop course and for 50 cents a head, would shear any one brave enough to take a chance.

I was reminded of Mike the other day because I was chatting with my friend Kenny who told me that for his entire freshman year, he had gone to Mike for his hair cutting needs. I told Kenny that I too had used Mike as a barber. I remember that when it was time I would knock on his door. A very good student, he was usually in the room reading some Biology tome.  He'd put aside his books, take out his scissors, put a towel around my neck and cut hair.

Some thoughts. 

 I wonder how Mike feels about this now.  Fifty cents a head.  He would have to cut ten of us to earn five dollars.   He's now an oncologist. He probably makes enough dough to have him shake his head at the notion that it was worth his while to cut hair for 50 cents.

The thing is, it was then.  We were at a state university. Our tuition was peanuts by today's standards, but nobody I knew who lived in the dorms came from any money.  The fellow across the hall was one of nine and his dad was a fire chief. I remember we both shook our heads in wonder when we learned that one of our dorm mates' dad had gotten a raise and was now making 10K a year.  Kenny's roommate, now a retired professor, woke up at 5 am every morning so he could work the cafeteria for minimum wage. Probably hauled in 25 dollars a week, tops. Every morning he would peel himself out of bed and dish out what passed for scrambled eggs to the few of us who got up early enough to eat it.

It's tough to write this and not sound like my dad who talked about how he remembered when a hot dog was a nickel, or how he got a tangerine as a gift during Chanukkah. I remember getting a real charge out of that.  I said, "Put me down for a plum."  He chuckled a little, but that was what it was like for him.

Most of the Mikes in my dormitory did well for themselves. My roommate, a dedicated Biology student, quit the Sciences and opened a multi franchised sub sandwich business in the Albany area.  A number of my classmates worked for the state, keeping jobs they had started for next to nothing picking up odd jobs at the capital.  Several, like Mike, became docs, a few successful lawyers.  A long way from charging 50 cents for a haircut to take the bite out of 300 dollar a year tuition costs.

At some point when I was a senior I bumped into Mike on campus.  I asked him if he was still giving haircuts. He said no and confided that he never had taken any lessons to cut hair.  Probably is now certified to be an oncologist though.