It's been a long time since the best haircut I've ever had or, in other words, since my last trip to Mansmansylvania, my term of endearment for the shop down the street.
I asked about the Saints scandal (he thinks its ridiculous---they had bounties in his day too---you didn't want to get hit that way, you let the guy know you could tell he was thinking about it and he would back off). I asked about his horses (he hasn't had one for several years). We talked about fishing and genealogy. I learned that the El Cerrito Plaza used to have a dog track and a football field. Good times.
He also happened to ask how Lady Steed and I met. "At college. BYU. In Utah." (I feel less constrained to speak in complete sentences when visiting Mansmansylvania.)
Then I started to learn that Phil the Barber knows all the oldtime Mormons in the area. Ends up we had a Mormon in the area connected to the Thunderbird hotel chain. Maybe that was the same one who was the son of George Dewey Clyde, governor of Utah? Then he knows Larry around the corner and Tom over the other direction. And he always referred to wards and missions and the Church---never that word "Mormon" I just dropped.
Holy crap. The barber-king of Mansmansylvania might be Mormon.
April 16 UPDATE