We love letters from Elder Braeburn, especially ones with illustrations! He sent us a recent letter detailing his last trip to get a hair cut.... and I quote....
"This has already been a great day. There's a turkish barber on High Street who Elder Rogers always visits. Usually he'll give the haircut and then flip a coin. If we call it correctly in midair, the haircut is free. Needless to say, whenever we need a haircut, we make a beeline for his place. I know that haircuts are a recurring theme in my letters. Perhaps this is because letters and haircuts always happen on the same day.
However, here I will beg your pardon and go off on another haircut tangent.
Turkish barbers are the only true barbers. Something in the Turkish air gives them an artistic genius, thirst for precision, and steadiness of hand that is unmatched among their inferior western counterparts. They begin by asking if you'd like a hot-towel shave. One of the few tragedies in my missionary life is that I shave every morning, making this sadly unnecessary. Someday.
They then spend a few minutes staring at your head, muttering. One doesn't tell a Turkish barber what sort of hair cut is wanted. They tell you, which makes every cut an adventure. This is great for guys like me who really have no idea what to ask for anyway.
So, this guy surveyed my head and then went to work, clipping and trimming away. When the hair cut was finished, he brought our a metal rod with a cotton ball on the end, dipped it in barbasol and then dramatically set it on fire. To my horror, he proceeded to whip this fireball at and around my ears. He didn't burn me, but he torched all the fuzz off my earlobes. I still smell burnt fur.
This was absolutely fantastic. I can never again by satisfied with a barber who does not use fire. Great Clips will just never be the same again."
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