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Like my two children, I was born bald, only to grow in a few hairs as I approached six months of age.
It at first grew slowly, finally stepping up its pace by the time of my first trip to an official barber shop run by Mr. Evans, a kindly older gentleman with little hair himself who ran a traditional tonsorium located in Rhodes Center, a 1930s-era marble-clad strip of stores in Midtown Atlanta.
My family had been making a big deal in the days leading up to my first haircut and joining in their tradition of visiting Mr. Evans.
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– Chris Schroder, The Georgia 100