On the last ceremonial stop in my old Clarksville/ Ft. Campbell stomping grounds, I went looking for a barber shop I frequented called Stud Cuts and barber named Ilka. For those familiar, neither are at the same place.

Instead, I got my haircut by the owner of Greg’s Barbershop. I was talking to him as he was cutting a young soldier’s hair. We talked about politics, the deactivation of the 506th, and both of our histories in the area. Until Greg said something staggering, “these boys here are getting their last haircuts - deploying to Afghanistan on Sunday.” The comment hung in the air for a moment as he brushed off the young man’s shoulders and gave him the “finished” tap. The young man arose from the chair, looked in the mirror and nodded with approval, as his “battle buddy” moved toward the door. Just before they left Greg gave the standard situational admonishment, but it was warm and had weight to it, one you knew he’d given a thousand times before, “good luck boys - keep your heads down and I’ll see you in a year.”

I took my turn in the chair and asked for a “low-skin blend and a trim on top.” I missed these haircuts. I always knew what I wanted and what it would look like. I like how they use the shaving creme and a razor to finish it off. Honestly, I’ve never quite figured out haircuts since my days at Ft. Campbell - it’s been kind of trick-or-treat for me and a source of mild anxiety.

We talked about all kinds of things past and present. I enjoyed the good ol’ barber banter; however, my mind was preoccupied with the boys and the gravity of the “lasts;” the last hair cut, the last beer at Black Horse Pub, the last…the last…the last…the heaviness, the excitement, the anxiety. I remember what those last days were like. Then I thought of the uncanny fortune of deploying on Mother’s Day. Imagine that.

Cheers to my Currahee brethren who I experienced so many firsts and lasts with. And special thoughts for mothers who are sending their children off to war today or supporting theirs currently over there; and my mother Teresa Lydon for supporting me, my brother, and father during our tours. Love you Ma’