It’s a small barber shop on a fussy street in East L.A.

Not many men can wear a mustache like the one that adorns, Joe’s face . On the spectrum of fascinating facial hair, it lands somewhere between a handlebar and a horseshoe. It’s a thick layer of white hair, running from jaw line to jaw line, by way of the upper lip. A mane that Wyatt Earp would envy. He is a short man at 5 foot 4 inches tall. Combine the facial hair with a full head of matching hair, add a pot belly and you’ve got, Joe.

He runs a comb through his mustache, right before opening the door to his shop. It’s a small barber shop on a fussy street in East L.A. The sign on the door says, “Joe’s Barber Shop.” But any one with a little bit of intuition can tell you that this man’s real name can’t be, Joe. It has to be something like, Alvaro, Francisco, or even Don Ramon. It just can’t be, Joe. No one reallyt knows his real name. Some of the old timers say that he bought the shop from, Joe Cartlan, many years back. People just started calling him, Joe because of the sign. At this point he is more Joe that the original Joe ever was.

He opened the door to his shop and swept the floor a little before anyone walked in. At sixty-five, Joe, still has plenty of current running through his frame. He is very electric, in the way many short people are. I guess that’s a way to make up for being short; just staying busy and moving all the time. It makes a smaller person fill the room.

He has two working stations in his shop. If you sit along the wall, with the waiting chairs and the large mirrors to your back, his station is in front of you on the left. The station on the right has never been occupied. That’s how he likes it. No competition. He is the alpha, and the zeta, male of his shop. That’s how he likes it.

He waits outside his door for any takers. Eventually, they come. One by one, they pile into his little shop to sit and share stories and opinions. He listens with great attention to the details in words. He is fascinated by conversation. He gives all of his knowledge in his responses. All the while he cuts hair and always thanks you for coming.

No one is there to help him run the shop. He moves through twenty customers in one day. Sweeping after every one. Always standing straight and always giving you as much respect as he expects from you.

At the end of the night, he sweeps, locks up and heads home, he is very proud of himself and proud to have affected the lives of those he came across yet again.