I have a Saturday job, cutting hair, that is sometimes exhausting, but fulfills a need I have to connect with strangers. Today an older man sat down in my chair, dusty work clothes and disheveled gray hair. He said that he could, “hear his mother’s voice telling him it was time to get a haircut.” He shared boyhood stories of growing up in Cary, NC and collecting eggs from his grandfather’s chickens, how kids today don’t know how to work hard, and he told me about his business selling mulch and Christmas trees. He was simple, hard working, and smelled of sweat. I am grateful for this moment.