As I mentioned a while back over in the beer blog, when I was last in my old home town of Kennett Square, I did something I’d meant to do for years, stopped in at the landmark Burton’s Barber Shop (over 100 years old) on State Street to check out whether my father’s picture was still posted among the sports memorabilia which have always decorated its walls. He was a college All-America in baseball, one of the best of his time.
The photo was long gone–sic transit gloria–but a lot of the old stuff and more modern baseball items were now more formally hung and featured, all part of the Old-Timers Baseball Associated Hall of Fame, created in 1974 by Bat Burton, (father of the present owner, Bob), the man who gave me, lord forgive me my youthful foolishness, my first flattop haircut back in the day.
Well, only a few weeks after I walked through those doors again and was, after a moment, recognized, which is amazing, Burton’s Barber Shop ended up on the front page of the Philadelphia Inquirer last Friday. A coincidence? I think not. The universe takes note of the wanderings of its favorite sons. That’s my story and…well, you know the rest of the cliché.
Okay, I jest, but this all has some real meaning for me, because it was my father’s baseball prowess that got him to college and made possible the life into which I was born and two of the men who helped him, an orphan farmboy, make that leap are still on Burton’s wall, both of them members of the Baseball Hall of Fame, Herb Pennock and Eddie Collins.