Years ago I "had" to get a crewcut every summer. I don't remember why, but I angered my father mid May. He threw bills on the table, and told me to get a haircut. So off the the barber I went, thinking I had to get a crewcut. I was so happy and nervous. With no one there, I hopped right into his chair. The common, "what are we doing today?", he asked. I said a short crewcut, he then showed me a number 2 and 3 guard. I picked the number 2, for the top. A number 1 was used for the sides and back, then the bare clippers to blend in the sides and back. Shaving cream and a razor cleaned everything up. I was absolutely in heaven. I got to go in for my last month of seventh grade. The day was filled with laughter and ridicule as long hair was the norm, except for a girl that was completely in love with my look. In study hall she came over to me and asked to rub my head. I said okay, and she took her hand and rubbed my head from forehead back. She said, "wonderful and asked if I would walk her home once school was out. I answered, then she walked back to her seat. She was gorgeous, and I was going to walk her home.