Special Commentary by James Standish
I sat down in the barber chair in a shop off New Hampshire Avenue in Silver Spring, Md. The woman cutting my hair introduced herself as “June,” and started in on the usual barbershop patter about length and style. In short order, we discovered a strange coincidence. June and I had been at exactly the same place, at the same time, at the same age. But at that time, our lives couldn’t have been more different.