Guidance

I have a story I’d like to share with you about my hair and a crazy old lady who helped remind me who I am.

To fully appreciate this story you will need to know that spent the first 22 years of my life in Spokane, Washington.


When I first moved over here, I went through a short period of time in which I second-guessed my decision. I was told ahead of time by some close friends, who travelled abroad, that this would be part of the settling process. It’s natural. Nevertheless, that is only comforting to a degree, at the end of the day you are still left with your thoughts. I began to ask myself the questions that I told myself I wouldn’t. “Was it worth leaving everything behind? Am I truly meant to be where I am?” I also began to evaluate how I was going about settling in. “Do I need to change?” I remember clearly waking up on a Thursday morning feeling confused and looking for guidance.

I had an appointment after school to get my hair cut. I had been putting this off for a very long time, and finally it became apparent that I could not wait a day longer. I was packing up my things and writing down directions when I got stopped by one of my students’ parents. This made me pretty late, which was unfortunate because at this point, I still had no idea how to get around the city.

I set out to find the place with 15 minutes to get a distance of 20 minutes. Of course, I couldn’t find any parking, I inadvertently drove down the wrong way of a one way street, and in the process made myself even later for this appointment. However, I was still doing relatively "ok" on time because a parking spot miraculously opened up before my eyes just as frustration hit its boiling point.

I set out on foot. I searched for street names and addresses left and right, but Europeans love to hide these things. It’s a game that apparently, as an American, I cannot appreciate. Nevertheless, I arrived at the address. I was 15 minutes late but only 15, which could have been much worse. However, when I became fully aware of my surroundings, I noticed one small detail. I was not standing at the door of a barber. I was standing outside of a sandwich shop. I kept looking at the address on the tattered piece of paper in my hand and back up at the shop. I did this over and over until the absurdity finally took hold. There is an old saying that I remember my Dad telling me when I was young. It states, "When all else fails, read the directions." With nothing to read, I figured I best go inside and ask where this place was. At this point I was feeling the pressure of my tardiness. I walked in and asked the girl at the counter if she had any idea where the shop was. To my relief, she knew exactly where I was talking about. In fact, she had even worked there for a time. However, just before she can tell me how to get there, an elderly woman grabs me. I mean literally grabs me by the shoulders and tells me I don't want to go there. I responded by telling her that not only did I want to go, but I had to and was extremely late. I then take a step to go to ask the girl once more how to get there, and the old woman grabs me again and leads me away from her. This time she tells me that I cannot go; she would not allow it. Now this has got me quite confused. I again try to level with her. “I appreciate your advice, but I am really quite late, and out of sheer respect and decency I need to honor my appointment.” How do you argue this point? Here’s how. She flat-out tells me I, cannot go. She then asks me why I want to go anyway. I have never had to justify getting my hair cut to someone before. And judging by the clearly unprofessional length and the fact that this person was a complete stranger no more than 5 minutes prior, I was utterly confused as to why this was the first time I was being hassled about my grooming decisions. Oh, and if you are wondering if she still has a firm grasp of my shoulders, she does. I am now considering the possibility of this lady being crazy. The evidence is heavily leaning toward this conclusion, and that’s precisely when she tightens her grip on my shoulders, looks me in the eye, and in a tone that implies more meaning than the face-value of the words, tells me that I should not change anything about myself.

She then walks me to the stoop of her shop, and tells me to look at the people walking by. She proceeds to pick out people and thoroughly critique them. And this is the hard part to explain; she did it in a manner that somehow avoided sounding judgmental. She spoke with a voice of compassion. She tells me about how each has conformed and given up their individuality and with it, their self-respect. She then asks me where I am from. I tell her Seattle, and she asks me where in Seattle. I asked if she actually knew the city, and she says that in fact she does. It turns out she used to teach in Vancouver and spent a great deal of time in Seattle. I found this to be an incredible coincidence. At this point, I remember thinking I simply have to go if I am going to make it to this appointment. But it struck me that this was a moment. This was a moment I am supposed to go with and to let take me where it pleases. So I did just that. I decided to drop all plans and follow this lady wherever she saw fit. She proceeded to compare the Scottish school system to the American and Canadian and detail all of her perceived problems with the system here. She then eloquently explained how that has transferred into the society. We ended up talking education and society on that doorstep for over an hour until she had to close the shop for the evening. When we finished, she walked me 20 feet down to the corner and pointed at the barbershop I had been looking for. We then said our goodbyes and finally exchanged names. I will never forget Barbara.

Having some newly found free time, I decided to walk the area and see what it had to offer. I came across a cobblestone street and headed down aimlessly. I saw a store that looked interesting and quickly realized that it was a record store. I must have spent an hour in the store looking through everything they had. There was an intriguing band playing on the overhead speakers, so I asked the guy working at the counter about them. While I was at the counter, a book on a shelf in the corner caught my eye. This is simply because it was the only book for sale in the store and seemed very out of place. I picked it up and turned to the first page. You know when you look at a page of words and one sticks out as if it is 3 times the font of the others? Well, the word that practically jumped off the page was “Spokane”. The first chapter is about a boy who is moving away from his hometown of Spokane, Washington. He is lonely, confused, and looking for a “home”. I bought the book. I took it home and read it cover to cover that night.

When I look back at the course of events from that day, I can’t help but marvel at how everything fell into place. I began the day looking for guidance to help me come to terms with change and to affirm that I had made the right decision to come here, and that is exactly what I received. Had I not been stopped by that parent, I wouldn’t have been late. Therefore, I would not have been rushed and would have written down better directions. Had I not gotten lost, I would not have ended up at the door of the sandwich shop. I would not have entered the shop looking for directions, meaning I would not have met the wise old woman. Had I not trusted my instincts (and the woman’s firm grip) to skip the appointment and continue our conversation, I would not have been given some of the best advice of my life, which was to stay true to myself. Had we not ended up there and had this conversation, subsequently missing the appointment and having some free time to wander about, I would not have been walking aimlessly in a foreign part of the city, which means I would not have stumbled upon the record store and the lone book for sale about a boy from a small town that undoubtedly no one in this far corner of Scotland has heard of, except me that is.


Thank you Barbara.