Just My Two Cents

But I firmly believe the show Pawn Stars has jumped the shark.

Excuse me while I return to my novel.

Stephen

Slick As Possum Fat

That's my face this morning...smooth, slick, hairless. Other than my close cropped beard my cheeks glow.

I've thrown those silly little orange tipped plastic razors in the trash. I've gone old school. Say hello to my old friend, a vintage 1938 Gillette Safety Razor.

She's a three piece made of solid brass and nickle plated. I like the fact it came off the assembly line at the tail end of the depression and just a few years prior to the second world war. She has heft. She's solid and fits well in my hand.

I recently found a ready supply of blades. Russian blades - sharp double edged, thin, wicked little suckers, and if handled improperly will skin the hide right off your face. But, if placed gently gives you a fine close shave.

I like Russians.

Anyway, back to my Gillette. When I take her to hand and glance into the morning mirror I like to think of the man that once owned her. Was he a man of the land or sea...I like to believe a farmer. A sturdy man that provided for his family during the dark years then signed on the dotted line when the war was brought to our shores. I like to think he survived the conflict and returned to his farm to walk the fields in peace. The old Gillette probably gave many years of service as his children grew into adults. I hope it was his grandchildren that finally took Papa's old razor, afterwards, and placed it in the estate sale.

Now, seventy odd years later it gives me joy. She has had her nickle plate refreshed. She still holds the double edged razors nice and tight, and when the lather is applied, slides like a dream down my cheeks.

Sometimes the old ways are best.

Stephen