Because the vast majority of lovely things are never caught on film, we have to reconstruct this one from what we have. What we have in service of reconstructing the lovely thing that was the haircut Lawrence Moran, who presides over a salon in Provincetown called Snip, came over and gave to Stanley one July afternoon in 2005 shortly before Stanley’s 100th birthday is this picture of Lawrence cadged from the internet and this picture of Stanley in his garden, alongside his anemones (from “The Round”) and in front of one of the Blue Spruces in “The Snakes of September.”
Because this is a story I have tried to tell a few times, and had occasion to think about today when I found a few lines about it in my journal from that day, I am now suggesting that, starting with these two photographs, we do the work of picturing the two of them in Stanley’s living room, Stanley in a wooden chair, wearing the the cape Lawrence brought from his salon, Lawrence, in shorts and white tank, standing behind the chair, his hand tilting Stanley’s head slightly to the right. We cannot see Lawrence’s very beautifully muscled arms, the ease and grace of them, or the care he takes with the delicate filaments in his hands.
Listen to the quiet hum of the shears as he trims along Stanley’s ear, and then attends to each eyebrow.
Stanley sits amused at the whole thing, appreciative of Lawrence’s care.
He is by then barely someone who even has hair, by which I do not mean he is losing his hair.
I mean his hair is losing him