Jules Xavier
Shilo Stag

I no longer have to say ‘it’s time for a haircut’ when I look into a mirror.
But when I used to have a squirrel’s nest in my youth, I was particular who put clippers or scissors to my curly mop. I used to enter a hair salon, with some trepidation, especially if it was an inaugural visit. There were women working behind each chair, not the old guy one was used to in a barbershop.
The barbershop was a place I frequented when I was a child, and already had fews hair follicles because my late mother used to ask for the $2 crewcut. My last haircut, cost me about $15, including a tip, and I was in the chair for less than five minutes.
I used to observe the barbershop adjacent to the Stag’s office daily and see the soldiers sitting in the chairs, getting a crewcut or a full head shave where the scalp is deforested of all hair. On certain days, the place reminded me of the subway in Toronto, with a constant flow of soldiers, and youngsters in need of a cut, going in, taking a seat, then retreating quickly, adjusting berets as the door closes behind them.
This is no longer the case with the CAF’s new hair regulations, where beards and long hair replace the Army crew cut.
I had a mop of hair on top of my head as a teenager, but decades later I prefer to shave off what I do have, especially during our current hot spell with advent of summer.
I needed to have confidence in someone before they were able to manipulate a sharp instrument like scissors anywhere near my ears. The same goes for the CANEX barbershop, I assume, as customers take a seat in front of the mirror with the person who has cut their hair previously, with frequent good results.
On more than one occasion, my mom drew blood when she cut my hair during my crew cut days. Can you blame me if I distrust anyone brandishing barber’s clippers or shiny scissors?
Karen, a barber/hairstylist, was the first to manage my curls when I started my career as a journalist in Brampton, Ont. Then it was Christina in Wetaskiwin, AB. They both always gave a great haircut, and managed my curls.
This past weekend while a thunderstorm erupted during a heat wave, while doing my own hair, I started reminiscing about the dreaded visit to the barber during my childhood — when my mother was not using father’s barber clippers at home. Feels good having a buzz cut, especially with the advent of sizzling temperatures.
It was horrifying when she played barber. Mom often reduced what hair I had to stubble — or what the military refer to in boot camp as a crew cut. Or for me, a crooked cut because she never left straight lines. I was just glad she did not use a bowl on my head, as some of my fellow military brats endured.
It was not until I started growing my hair long at age 16 I discovered I had been blessed — cursed? — with curly locks. A year later going into Grade 11, my hair resembled a lion’s mane. I would borrow my sisters’ blow dryer in winter.
I did not consider myself a hippy, although the majority of my male peers were shedding their long hair for a shorter look. I just took my time following suit. Besides, I kept my hair clean and combed — using a rake to get through the dense curls.
Although it might sound like I was finicky about my hair, I knew there was a time I would not have to worry about it. I was continually reminded by my late father, who was bald by age 18, that I should enjoy my curls as long as they lasted.
It was not until my late 30s my hair began to recede, at the back top area first, then the forehead. Baldness is a common trait among Xavier men, though the bald gene is compliments of my grandmother’s side of the family. Grandpa Thomas Sampson had his hair when he died in his late 80s, but I notice cousins on the mother’s side have also become follicle-challenged.
I never worried about going bald because my father always said “bald is beautiful.” Look at the male actors on TV who are considered studs, when they went with the bald look. Not a hair out of place. Besides, I have saved money on haircuts now that I use my nephew’s clippers he brought back home from his six-month tour of Iraq with the US Air Force. I save on shampoo, too.

It’s fun to go through the family album and see your life when it comes to your haircuts, or lack of, when I arrived at CFB Shilo in June 2012. By then, I needed to wear a hat to avoid burning my hairless head. So, my green fedora most know me when I’m out and about working as Stag editor covering activities on the Base. But I look a lot different from my youth, to my years in high school and university. Then growing a beard, which is the norm when I look around at 1RCHA and 2PPCLI soldiers. While I like to keep my beard cropped closely to the jaw line and face, there are some great ZZ Top-like beards on this Base. Photos Jules Xavier archives