Week 48 - Thanksgiving

It was cold. It was raining. And Fred’s knees were hurting. It seemed like every day it was just a little harder to get out of bed in the morning. His wife, June, was already down in the kitchen. He could smell the coffee on. Outside his window, he found a sea of gloomy clouds hovering above a drab, leafless hillside. A couple of grey squirrels were running laps around the big oak at the corner of his yard. It was already 7:30 am.

Finally up and dressed, Fred kissed his wife goodbye as she handed him a thermos. “Don’t you go smokin’, now!” she scolded, playfully.

“Let’s just see how the day goes,” he said with a smile. 

Once he made it into the old barbershop, Fred clicked on the radio. The quiet was too loud for him this morning and he needed some sort of noise going.

A couple of hours passed before anyone came into the shop. And Fred was guessing she didn’t want a haircut. 

“Mr. Jones? I’m Blaire Montgomery. I work for the Peril County Community Help Center just around the corner. We’re doing a project on downtown revitalization and folks at City Hall sent me your way. Do you have a minute?” 

Blaire was a pretty blonde girl in her early twenties. Fred hadn’t seen her around town, and her accent made it clear she wasn’t local. “Where you from originally, Miss Blair?” he asked.

“I grew up in Indianapolis. Met Daniel Wilson in college and got engaged over the summer. He brought me to Black Grass, and I just fell in love.” She beamed with excitement.

“Danny? Is that Ed and Edna’s boy?” 

She nodded.

“Good boy. I still cut his daddy’s hair twice a month. Now, what is it exactly you are needin’ from me?” He eased himself down into his barber’s chair and motioned for Blair to have a seat next to him. 

She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a notepad. “Well, the receptionist at City Hall sent me your way. We’re doing an inventory of potential sites for renovation and your building is only at around thirty percent occupancy, correct?” 

Fred curled up his forehead a little. “Meanin’ what exactly?” 

Blair flipped over her page and drew two squares. “Now, this is what I was told, so correct me if I’m wrong, but…” She sectioned the first box into two halves and the other box into quarters. “On the first floor here, you are the only active business and this side is not being used. And you have four apartments upstairs, but only one is currently being rented. Do I have that right?” 

He nodded, understanding her better. “Ok, I got you. Yes, the other side of the building is where we used to have the auctions. But we quit doin’ those durin’ the lockdown back when and never started back up. And upstairs is partitioned off into apartments, but just my niece, Frannie, is livin’ there. We had a bad experience with some kids livin’ there a few years ago, so I ain’t been too keen to take just anybody back in.”

Flipping her notebook back to the front, she scanned the page, looking for something. “And how long have you owned this building, Mr. Jones?”

“Right ‘round forty years, I’m guessin’.” He had to think back. He rented the barber shop for at least five before he bought the building from Mr. Wooton way back when. 

She jotted something down. “What are your plans for the building moving forward?” she asked. 

Fred felt a little shocked by this. He suddenly felt ancient. “Well, miss, I don’t really know.”

“Would you have any interest in selling? I only ask because I think there would be interest.” 

Fred pondered for a moment. His children had moved out of the region, for the most part. None were either barbers or property managers. “I hadn’t thought about sellin’. But that don’t mean I wouldn’t.” 

Blair scanned the room. “Listen, if you want to have discussions on how we can get impact investments in here, maybe some grant funding, I’d love to do that. I don’t want to presume anything. I’m needing all the community leaders I can find to help us get some positive things going on downtown. On the other hand, I have spoken to some folks a lot like you who may be looking at retirement in the not too distant future and cashing out on property is one viable option.” 

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Miss. A lot.” 

At two o’clock Mr. Walker made his way from the bank over to the barbershop. He pulled his long coat tightly around his shoulders, trying to fight off the cold breeze. 

“Fred, my old friend. How are we on this cold and gray day?” he asked as he slipped off his brown trench coat. 

He smiled. “If I’s doin’ any better, they’d charge me for it!”

The both laughed. 

“How’s that grandson a yours doin?” Fred asked as he wrapped the drape around Mr. Walker’s shoulders.

Mr. Walker shook his head. “Eatin’ crayons last time I talked to his daddy,” he said flatly. 

Fred tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but what the hell is he eatin’ crayons for?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Said red tasted better than green, whatever that means.”

They continued to chat as Fred finished up the haircut. After brushing him off, he spun Mr. Walker around toward the mirror. “Got you lookin’ right as rain.”

“As always!” he said and handed Fred a $50. 

“Let me get you some change.”

Mr. Walker held up his hand. “Keep it, my fried. Pre-holiday tip! Besides, nobody else laughs at my jokes!”

The next day was one of Fred’s favorite days of the year; Thanksgiving. His wife June loved to cook and Fred loved to eat. Plus, his kids and grandbabies would be coming back to Black Grass. “I smell greens on, Mrs. Jones. And a turkey in the oven!” he said as he made his way down the stairs. 

“I been up since six. I should have done more yesterday. But, oh well.” June was wearing an apron that one of her daughters-in-law had made for her last Christmas. She’d not worn it once since opening it last year, so now was as good a time as any to break it in.

By noon, cars began to pull into the driveway as members of the family arrived. Henry, their youngest, came in with the newest grandbaby. Little Davon was only six weeks old. Soon, the house was abuzz with activity as five offspring, their spouses and all the grandbabies busied themselves before the big meal. 

Last to arrive was Frannie. Harley and Xavier, her two children, followed along in tow. “Sorry we’re late!” she said, giving her Auntie June a kiss on the cheek.

The entire family gathered in the living room, holding hands just before their meal. Fred lead them in a prayer of Thanksgiving for all of their many blessings and for bringing them together once again. “And for all that you have done, all that you do and all that you will do; we humbly say ‘Thank you, Lord Jesus’ A-men!” 

“A-men” a chorus repeated. 

“Thank’s for the turkey! Thanks for the bread! Open up my mouth and shove it in my head!” James, Jr. said. Most of the family laughed, but his father scolded him.

Fred shooed his son away and picked up his grandson. “You got the right idea, boy!” he said and squeezed him in a bear hug. 

They gorged themselves on the delicious meal. Ms. June had outdone herself and the sides and deserts everyone brought were fantastic as well. Deviled eggs, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, creamed corn and collard greens were all particularly popular items around the table. 

As everyone was finishing, Fred took a swig of coffee and cleared his throat. “Everyone, I have somethin’ to tell you all. Yer mama doesn’t even know this yet. But at the end of the year, I’m gonna close the barber shop and retire. And, nothin’ is official, but there may be an opportunity to sell the building.”

A confused roar erupted from the table, with everyone asking questions, trying to find out more. “That’s great, Pop, if you’re wantin’ to retire. But what about the building?”

“Where would I go?” a panicked Frannie asked. 

“I grew up in that barbershop,” Nina, Fred’s oldest daughter moaned. 

The old barber held up both of his hands. “I know. I know. It’s gonna be a big change. But we can figure all a that out as we go.”

The entire family sat, staring at the patriarch, stunned. 

Fred looked over to his wife, stuck out his hand, and took hers in his own. “June, baby, we’re doin’ fine on money. My knees hurt. My hands ache. And I think I wouldn’t mind keepin’ my ass in the bed a few minutes longer ever mornin’! That sound ok to you?”

She smiled at him, lovingly. “That sounds perfect to me.”