My Life With Don

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Earlier this week a friend of mine and a former business partner, Don Stark passed away. I first met Don in January of 2011. That’s the month I officially started working in a small three chair barber shop in Machesney Park, Illinois. There were six waiting chairs and three barber chairs. Bill’s Barber Shop was owned by Bill Miller, a long time barber in the area. He was having some health issues and needed to work less so he gave me the opportunity to work in the shop for a couple days a week. I needed the days because I was pretty new in the business and trying to find a place to work for more than a few months. I didn’t know at the time I would end up owning the shop with Don in 2012 and working there until 2021. I had no intention of working there for a decade of my life but that is just how it worked out.

There were three barbers in the shop when I started. Bill the owner, another barber named Bill Louis and Don. All three of these men had gone to barber school before I was born or out of diapers. When I started working Don was already 65 years old and I was 40 years old being a late comer in life to a barbering career. It was a good environment for me to learn and not be overwhelmed by young people as coworkers. At 38 I went through barber school with young guys and girls who challenged my approach to life let’s just say. So being “just a kid” was right where I needed to be. It was where I was meant to be.

As time went on Bill Miller passed away for acute leukemia and the other Bill left the shop and retired. Don and I bought the shop from Bill a week before he died. We were now partners in the business. We had our friend Luther Rowlett barber a day or two a week in the third chair for a while but eventually it was just the two of us. We took out the third station and eliminated a sixth day of work by closing Mondays. We opened Tuesday through Saturday with Saturday being a short day. We found our groove and life went on. Business was always good in the shop. Bill Miller owned it for 19 years and a man named Bob Dunn owned it for 30 years prior. The business was good and only got better over the years.

In our business Don and I both agreed that we were going to be consistent. We rarely were closed. We usually took off regular holiday times but only closed the shop one week a year for vacation. In all the years we worked together Don never took a sick day for himself and I took one half day because I was sick. That day became “the day I went home sick” as Don would remind for the next 8 years. We did a lot of haircuts, had a lot of laughs, and decorated the shop with every give away from his trips to Chicago Bears home games. I still have a bag of ticket stubs from the games I went along with him. Don loved the Bears. He didn’t like Wisconsin because his two ex-wives and the Packers were from there. We had a constant running joke at work, Don would tell everyone I was an expert on women because I lived with three of them and I would say I learned everything about love from Don and his two ex-wives.

The age difference between us never made a difference. People would ask if we were related and I would tell them he is my older, older brother and he would roll his eyes. No we weren’t related but we were a team. I would go out in the public, and customers would ask me where Don was. “Believe it or not” I would say “Don and I don’t do everything together”. I laugh now at all the times I was asked that over the years. Don was a kind thoughtful guy. He was always concerned for me and my wife and daughters. He never said a harsh word to me. I never to him. We had each others backs and supported each other. Very rarely did he complain. That was my job. I’m the complainer, he was just consistent. He was there. Never did he miss work until his father’s health began to fail and he needed to help. Even then he felt bad missing work and always thanked me years later for supporting him during that time.

I have a lot of stories about Don. I feel like I may know more about him than others because we were working in a room smaller than some walk-in closets for over a decade. But one stands out in my mind and always will. Don grew up in a small town, Genoa Illinois. He grew up in the 50’s and 60’s. He loved Corvettes and hotrod culture. He was always shocked I didn’t know the year older cars were made. All cars look the same now for years but then a new year meant a new model. He made money delivering papers and working in his father’s service station. In my mind it was probably one of the most ideal times in the history of our country. When Don was 13 years old, on a wintery day, his mother slid into an oncoming train and was killed. He talked about it from time to time and his old friends would talk about it when they came in. It definitely was an event that changed his life forever. It would impact any of us had it happened in our life.

Don’s dad went on to remarry and he had a step-mom that he always acknowledged and was good to. Before she passed Don told me she always appreciated how he would never miss a birthday or Mother’s Day with out a gift and card, those were her words. I feel the same way.

I believe that things happen for a reason. Sometimes the synchronicities of life are amazing. One day early on in our time working together Don was cutting an older gentleman’s hair and they were just talking normally. He asked Don where he grew up. Don said he was from Genoa. The guy, Herb was his name, said “when I was a young state trooper I responded to a train and car accident in Genoa. A young woman was killed.” I can still see the stunned look on Don’s face. Herb went on to say he was the man who went and notified Don’s father that his wife had died in an accident. Don had been out delivering newspapers when it all happened. I don’t think Don really ever recovered from losing his mother. But meeting Herb that day was a great moment for him. An acknowledgment and a few details he didn’t know. He told me they took the train to Massachusetts and buried his mom in New Hampshire. It was cold and frozen and he was sad to leave his mother in the icy cemetery. One thing he wanted to do was visit her grave one more time before he died. But he never did. Time got away.

In September of 2021 I moved out of the shop and Don and I sold the business to another owner. We continued to have breakfast at our local diner once a month until this June. Don continued to work in the shop. He missed time to care for his long time “lady friend” as he called her and then his own health began to fail. He worked into June 2024 and began to be sick and went downhill fast. Our last conversation was in the hospital the day before he passed away. We had our moment of goodbye. My wife and I told him we loved him and that was the last time I talked to him. My life with Don is over. But I will always have my memories and stories and there are many. Rest in peace Don.