Time marches on never ending,
Time keeps its own time,
Here we stand at beginning
Then goes passing us by
Finally - Kings of Tomorrow
We often take for granted the steady rhythms of our routines—until, suddenly, a call or an unexpected change reminds us that nothing is permanent.
I wasn't planning to write about this today - aside from the obvious that I could never have known it would happen. I didn’t expect it to affect me as much as it has. After receiving the unexpected phone call last Friday, my feelings and emotions have evolved and impacted me in ways that I didn't foresee.
11 years ago, shortly after arriving in New York City and settling into our downtown rental, I sought out a place to get my hair cut. Being a little too precious for my own good, I was nervous about having to go to a new person in a new city. The familiarity of certain tasks, processes or acts in our life can mean that change can be unsettling - for me a new hairdresser is one of them.
A half block around the corner from our apartment was a hair salon that I would later find out first opened in the neighbourhood in 1985. This was like any other hair salon you might imagine - bustling with stylists, color technicians and customers being attended to and waiting, the whirr of hair dryers and the uncurrent of chemicals used for styling and colouring.
My appointment was with a ‘senior stylist’ who I had mistakenly heard over the phone be called JZ, but who in fact went by JV. True to his almost-namesake, JV was a physically large human who welcomed me with a firm handshake and warm smile.
Honestly, I don't remember much about that first visit - the anxiety over how I was going to look after this new person has butchered my hair was the overriding feeling. I do remember being struck by how friendly JV was, but also how he seemed to understand immediately the boundaries of communication and interaction really well - he was engaging without being pushy and happy to let me sit quietly as the appointment progressed.
I could never have known that I would be coming to see JV regularly for 11 years after that day, nor that time would pass so quickly. I would come to learn that JV’s real name was Joao Vincent Galindo, that he was Brazilian and split his time between Florida and New York, having first come to NYC some 30 years earlier.
As I got to know JV better, I learnt how he was struggling with his health and a 6 month sabbatical after a stroke was an anxious time for everyone that knew him, but that after he returned, although a little less agile, his energy and vitality for life was as strong as ever.
Over the years, JV supported me in my various cranial experiments, which on reflection mirrored the passing of time and the changing seasons of life for me.
My early years with him I was trying to stem the advancement of my age by dying my grey hair brown which I soon ditched and instead aspired to resemble the love-child of a boy band singer and a premiership footballer with shaved sides and a coiffed wave on top.
Our meetings were a little less frequent as I grew my hair out in an attempt to resemble a world famous DJ - my idol Axwell. JV supported me through monthly keratin treatments in an attempt to quell the frizzy, wavey nature of my hair that I likely inherited from my mum (she’s definitely going to yell at me for that comment!).
When the pandemic hit and the salon closed down, I would send JV money on a monthly basis in the hope that I wasn't alone in his client base, in trying to support those people hit hardest by lockdowns and shut downs.
The world reopened and I returned to JV with my long wavy locks shorn, my cause to see him was less, but I still went, even though I could probably have done it myself at home, or more cheaply with a barber. JV was as jovial as I remembered him, if not a little less agile and tiring more easily.
With each passing year, our appointments grew into a shared ritual, marking not just the rhythm of haircuts but the quiet passage of time, each visit adding to the invisible thread that connected us.
As my boys got a little older, I started taking them to JV too. He showed them care, attention and patience that I will never forget. He took pride in their style, their satisfaction with his work and would always love to see them as we walked by the salon every day on their way to school.
On an occasion that JV was on vacation, my wife took our youngest son to her own salon with disastrous consequences. He left resembling a traditional little dutch girl and was broken hearted. On his return JV stepped in like a superhero to remedy the tragedy and although our youngest was happy again, the scars still run deep to this day……:)
In November of 2023, the salon closed, after a 38 year run in the neighbourhood. The group of now familiar stylists disbanded to various other locations around the city and the unit sits vacant to this day.
Thankfully JV was able to secure a chair at a salon a short walk away, meaning that both my boys and I continued to see him. Our relationship had evolved to the point where I didn't need to call or go on the website to book - I could just text him directly and he would figure it out or always find a way to fit us in.
I texted him last just over a week ago about bringing my boys in this week - on election day when school was closed. He was excited to see them and that he was getting back from Florida the day before halloween.
The day after Halloween, in between zoom calls, my phone rang with a number I didn't recognise. For some reason I felt I should answer. It was the manager of the salon at which JV worked.
“I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you that JV passed away yesterday.”
The shock was what I felt most in the moment. I couldn't believe what she was saying and I asked her to repeat herself. I was truly speechless. I also didn't know what to do. I don't know any of his family, or his friends - he wasnt married nor did he have kids. I only knew a spattering of colleagues who moved with him to that salon. I asked for my number to be passed to them and I hung up.
Of course I knew his health had always been a challenge. But as recently as a month ago, he had shared with me that he had switched onto a completely new set of medication and felt like a new man. The fact that he was still so actively going back and forth to Florida, even though he had just sold his apartment there, signalled to me that he was in a good place.
Ultimately, I decided to write about this because of how the grief has sat with me over the past 7 days and how it has evolved.
I feel sad that I didn't know more about JV, about his life, beyond the surface level things we would chat about each time I saw him. I feel sad there isn't an obvious way to share my grief with people who know him similarly - if the salon on the corner was still open I would go down there and just hug people.
When I told my boys about his passing, my middle son expressed the same shock as I did… my youngest son alarmingly asked “Who’s going to cut my hair now? Not that person mom took me to!”. I couldn't help but smile.
The fragility of life, the shortness of time and the need to try and live life to its fullest in every moment have felt more apparent to me this last week than I would have expected.
I reread Tim Urban’s The Tail End regularly - it feels apt to share it here.
JV’s passing reminded me that time, no matter how much we try to hold onto it, time always slips away. What remains are the connections we make along the way.
I hope that I showed JV how much I appreciated him, that he felt seen by me. I know that I will always remember him for his warmth, his kind nature and the radiant smile he would give me and the kids every day as we walked by.
Joao Vincent Galindo. 1964-2024.
