Hillbilly Elegy

On my first day home from boot
camp, I walked into the barbershop of
my grandfather’s old friend. Marines
have to keep their hair short, and I didn’t
want to slack just because no one was
watching. For the first time, the corner
barber—a dying breed even though I
didn’t know it at the time—greeted me
as an adult. I sat in his chair, told some
dirty jokes (most of which I’d learned
only weeks earlier), and shared some
boot camp stories. When he was about
my age, he was drafted into the army to
fight in Korea, so we traded some barbs
about the Army and the Marines. After
the haircut, he refused to take my money
and told me to stay safe. He’d cut my