It was a typical hot humid day in Houston. A/C for us was raising the windows and turning on the attic fan.

I was to young to know the difference.

What I DID know is I was tired of getting my hair cut the way my dad wanted it cut.

It was called a bowl cut in those days or a little boys cut at Brunson's barber shop on Market St.

I remember like it was yesterday.

There was a price list on the wall. Even back then they gave you a few options.

Unfortunately, even at that age I NEVER liked ANY of the options.

My dad (who RARELY was there) although with his strict hand made sure my mother obeyed his every COMMAND demanded we get the cheapest hair cut available.

Basically it looked like the barber put a damn bowl over your scroney head and shaved the sides leaving a little hair on top so you didn't look like a total dip-shit!

My brother’s were afraid to ask. So I was nominated to ask the all important question.

After damn near swallowing my tongue… I somehow managed to do the easiest method I could drum up at the age of about 8… I just spit it out…

Daddy when can WE choose the type of haircut WE want!

My dad grabbed me by the arm. It was a very familiar feeling as I fully expected to get the spanking of my young life! (Yes back in those days parents could actually disipline kids… switches, belts, hands ropes you name it)

He looked at me directly in my big brown eyes and said…

You can pick your haircut WHEN you pay for it.

That was the day I became an entrepreneur. I started picking up Coke (Soda) bottles in the ditches in our neighborhood.

In those days it was actually somewhat safe to roam around your neighborhood as a youngster.

We didn’t even lock our doors back then.

All I wanted was to have my hair cut the way I wanted or rather the way I didn't want it cut because I wanted to have long hair.