My Ron

So I just realized I haven’t told y’all about My Ron. And really, this may be one of the harder stories to write, because you don’t just talk about My Ron, it’s really best if you experience him. And this is a great place to insert, “If you know, you know.”

And all the people said, ” Amen.”

I guess about 16 years ago, or so, I started working at a salon where there were just a few folks. It had been an office condo, so we each had an individual room to rent and run our own business. My Ron had been there a year or two prior to my arrival and was well established; we’d both been in the business 10 or 12 years. (Now look, don’t even attempt to do the math on this one. These are all rough estimates. We hairstylists don’t do exact math. It takes all the fun out of it. Plus, none of us really want to know exactly how long we’ve been on our feet. *cough*27yearsthismonth*cough*)
We hit it off big, and had a great time each day at work. Everything from practical jokes, to water bottle fights, to helping with each other’s clientele. We got along great.

But then he decided to change things up.

He opened his own salon. He had two long-time friends in the business, one a stylist, one a nail tech, to whom he had promised a spot if he ever opened his own place. So at the prompting of a client-in-the-real-estate-know, he suddenly had a location, staff, and a new place. Left me behind, he did.

I stayed put and patiently waited, all the while cutting his hair once a month and always reminding him that if one of his girls ever left, the spot was mine. Whether he wanted me, or not.  Perseverance paid off.  About a year later, his nail girl moved away and I told him I’d be moving in that Thanksgiving.  No, I didn’t give him a choice.  Yes, it’s the best choice he’s ever made.

My Ron is one of the quickest-witted people I have ever known.  Funny things fly out of his mouth at the speed of a Navy Jet.  I marvel.  It is truly a gift he possesses, and I love being a part and party to.  Most of my clients are content to sit quietly and just listen to him.  He’s great entertainment.  Now, that’s not to say that I haven’t gotten one or two things over on him over the years, but mine take time and calculations, while his is rip speed, right then, instant, hilarious.  I envy.

It’s like being married, but not.  We pretty much know our boundaries and limits, and stick to them, where with a real spouse you may push until there’s an explosion.  We don’t do that – we just tell each other to back off and get to work.  It’s a beautiful thing.  We also recognize when the other is cranky from a lack of nutrition, and have no problem telling each other to “eat a biscuit.”

My Ron has the best stories, and after all these years I can tell them on his behalf.  Sometimes I’ve even used them at parties to entertain others; they’re that good.  (and all true.  Most of them fall into the “you couldn’t make this up if you tried” category)  There’s Marvin the mouse, the snake in the house, the VW that lost the tire, the closet he turned into a bedroom, living in the garage, siblings, aunts and uncles, the list is truly endless.  Every once in a while he comes out with a new story and I am all over again amazed.  His story telling is something that should be in a movie.

We’ve laughed far more than we’ve cried, but we’ve cried some, too.  We’ve been there for each other through good and bad, happy and sad, frustrating and easy.  And, really, without many words.  We read each other without needing to say it, and change the mood of the room to perk each other up.  He definitely better than I.  We don’t really spend time together much outside of the beauty parlor – we spend enough time together there.  Actually, we’ve spent more waking hours together in the last 16 years than either of us have with our spouse.

We’ve helped each other with hair events and crisis (both on ourselves and others).  Worked weddings and fancy events, traveled far and wide to do so.  We don’t do too much of that any more – we’ve passed the torch, so to speak.  One of the funnest, though, was when we went to Birmingham for his client’s wedding.  Every stereotypical thing that could’ve happen, happened.  Lost shoes, hungover bridesmaid, the mother-in-law from…..well, let’s just say I let Ron have that little up-do.  We danced till dark, then Ron and the Bride’s Mom danced till daylight, and then did her hair at 8 the next morning.  Needless to say, My Ron was doing some heavy duty snoring in the back seat on the way home that day.  So many fun memories.

Another favorite was when he went with me to the funeral home to do the hair of one of my deceased clients.  Boy oh boy was that a trip.  He may have summoned a little liquid courage for that one.  We laughed and cried and made her beautiful.  He was a true champ.  Of course, then he drug me along to do the same for one of his clients who passed.  That is one of the most hilarious and epic hairdressing stories ever.  I’ll leave it out for now, but we both still roll with laughter every time one of us tells it.

You see, My Ron is the person you want with you on these adventures.  Fun-loving, excited, funny, helpful, will do anything you ask, he makes every-day things extraordinary.  He’s generous to a fault (he took the watch off his arm, wrapped it up, and gave to a child for Christmas), gentlemanly (he never lets me do all the tasks, carries the heavy stuff, thinks of others first), works as hard as the hardest worker out there (still too many hours behind the chair to count), takes care of his clients like they’re his family.  If I were to need anything, anything, I know I just have to call.  I’ve tried to teach him some technology, sometimes I have to call companies and act like I’m his relative to handle something for him, often times he says, “here, talk to the manager,” and he hands me the phone.  Like brother and sister, husband and wife, we finish each other’s sentences.  Speaking of….he tells people I’m his older sister.  For the record, he’s three years older.  I’m constantly having to un-do that one.

We’ve often joked that one day when we’re old and senile, we’ll share a room at the old folks home.  I’ll sneak him wine, and he’ll make sure I’m not dancing naked in the halls.  It’ll be a perfect combination.  We’ll do hair in the home beauty parlor to pay for our room and board, and shuffle off to our room at the end of the day.  I’ll listen to him tell his stories to the nurses and laugh all over again, and probably correct him when he tells them wrong.  Wouldn’t that just be grand?

At the end of each day, when one of us is leaving to go to our other life at home, we tell each other, “have a good night. I love you.”  I’m super lucky to have him as my partner in crime, all-day-long entertainment, makes-sure-I-eat big brother.  He makes the days joyful and fun.  I love you, Ron, and I’m so glad you’re “My Ron.”