I had to fix irrigation this morning and was late getting into town. I stopped off at the donut shop and told Terry who works there that I was going to go next door and get a haircut.
I saw a pained look in the Cambodian woman's eyes. "Mario is not there," she told me."ICE picked him up."
I hurried next door and talked to the other barber. He told me that Mario, my haircutter, had been picked up by ICE at the casino last week.
Not only was Mario a great barber, he was great to me, a kind, wonderful person whose life had turned around when he quit drinking. Everybody liked him. The Guatemalan was the son of a barber and gave me the best cuts I have received in years.
He had a Guatemalan word for me which I don't quite remember but it was like Jefe, a townsperson who commanded respect.
I will really miss the hardworking guy and hope to see him again one day.
1 comment:
A real,shame!
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