A few years ago, working a late shift in southern Iraq I came across an article that intrigued me. It spoke at length about the nature of being a man, and how that nature has been lost.
Reading through the article, in that place that the modern world has seemingly forgotten, I started thinking of the things I'd only read about in Hemingway novels and seeing in old black and white films. Working on your own car in the shade of an old elm tree ... holding open the door for the ladies ... understanding that rough hands and leathered faces sometimes tell the stories of our lives that we have no words for.
In my short time here I've seen those things disappear. I saw in that article that the true Renaissance man has all but become extinct. My father wasn't that man, but both my grandfathers wear. Men of few words, big actions, and hands as rough as sandpaper from the lives they lived.
I finished the article that night, jotting down notes about my own life, seeing things I could do to get back to my roots, defining myself on index cards in the dark. I tucked those cards into a mo-bag a few days later and didn't look at them again until I unpacked them in northern Iraq two years later.
As it happened I had some time to reflect on what I'd written. I'd made some improvements, but the lost art of shaving my face with a blade was one I hadn't even attempted progress on. And then late one night, in the Cadillac latrine I was standing there getting ready for a mid. In the basin beside me was an OGA contractor ... shaving his face and dome with a straight razor.
We sat and talked for twenty minutes about the process, the enjoyment ... learned past time. He pointed me here, although I cannot remember his name, and said to do the research.
And so I did. I came home a few months later, and began doing some reading and decided that a DE was probably mild enough to start with. So I started looking ... I didn't want to order one online because I wanted to hold it in my hand, get a feel for the metal in my hand; after all, I'd never wrapped my fingers around one.
I started talking with some of my older friends, ones who I felt may have used one at one point for some advice. Most of them weren't familiar enough, but then my welder of all men ... his eyes lit up when I asked. He led me into his living room where he showed me a DE his father had been issued in the military at one point. I don't recall the brand, but it was in amazing condition. I knew at that moment this was where my search had been leading me.
I spent a few days calling places in town, looking for supplies and razors and had no luck ... and then I had luck twice in the same day by two different people.
My welder had gone out of state for a weekend and wound up hitting an enormous flea market - he picked up my first razor, an old Gillette. His son-in-law had also gone with him, and picked up another as well. The following day they were both presented, and I couldn 't wait to try it out. I ordered some soap, a Tweezerman brush, and bowl online and then I bought the only package of blades I could find in town at the time (Equaline).
Not willing to wait, I used some Gillette shave gel this morning ... went slow. When I was finished, no nicks, no cuts, I felt refreshed. I felt manly. I walked around all day with a kick in my step because I knew I was the only man in the room who cut the stubble off his chin this morning with a razor blade. I know it'll only get better as I continue and when I start using real supplies, but it was a great feeling.
Used to be that I didn't bother shaving all weekend or when on leave ... now I think I'll shave more often
Now on to my identification question; I snapped pictures of the two blades. I have no idea how to restore them but am sure I'll find out soon enough. I would like to find out what they are though. If anyone has any ideas I'm open, and would appreciate it.
Oh one more thing ... thanks for having me.
Reading through the article, in that place that the modern world has seemingly forgotten, I started thinking of the things I'd only read about in Hemingway novels and seeing in old black and white films. Working on your own car in the shade of an old elm tree ... holding open the door for the ladies ... understanding that rough hands and leathered faces sometimes tell the stories of our lives that we have no words for.
In my short time here I've seen those things disappear. I saw in that article that the true Renaissance man has all but become extinct. My father wasn't that man, but both my grandfathers wear. Men of few words, big actions, and hands as rough as sandpaper from the lives they lived.
I finished the article that night, jotting down notes about my own life, seeing things I could do to get back to my roots, defining myself on index cards in the dark. I tucked those cards into a mo-bag a few days later and didn't look at them again until I unpacked them in northern Iraq two years later.
As it happened I had some time to reflect on what I'd written. I'd made some improvements, but the lost art of shaving my face with a blade was one I hadn't even attempted progress on. And then late one night, in the Cadillac latrine I was standing there getting ready for a mid. In the basin beside me was an OGA contractor ... shaving his face and dome with a straight razor.
We sat and talked for twenty minutes about the process, the enjoyment ... learned past time. He pointed me here, although I cannot remember his name, and said to do the research.
And so I did. I came home a few months later, and began doing some reading and decided that a DE was probably mild enough to start with. So I started looking ... I didn't want to order one online because I wanted to hold it in my hand, get a feel for the metal in my hand; after all, I'd never wrapped my fingers around one.
I started talking with some of my older friends, ones who I felt may have used one at one point for some advice. Most of them weren't familiar enough, but then my welder of all men ... his eyes lit up when I asked. He led me into his living room where he showed me a DE his father had been issued in the military at one point. I don't recall the brand, but it was in amazing condition. I knew at that moment this was where my search had been leading me.
I spent a few days calling places in town, looking for supplies and razors and had no luck ... and then I had luck twice in the same day by two different people.
My welder had gone out of state for a weekend and wound up hitting an enormous flea market - he picked up my first razor, an old Gillette. His son-in-law had also gone with him, and picked up another as well. The following day they were both presented, and I couldn 't wait to try it out. I ordered some soap, a Tweezerman brush, and bowl online and then I bought the only package of blades I could find in town at the time (Equaline).
Not willing to wait, I used some Gillette shave gel this morning ... went slow. When I was finished, no nicks, no cuts, I felt refreshed. I felt manly. I walked around all day with a kick in my step because I knew I was the only man in the room who cut the stubble off his chin this morning with a razor blade. I know it'll only get better as I continue and when I start using real supplies, but it was a great feeling.
Used to be that I didn't bother shaving all weekend or when on leave ... now I think I'll shave more often
Now on to my identification question; I snapped pictures of the two blades. I have no idea how to restore them but am sure I'll find out soon enough. I would like to find out what they are though. If anyone has any ideas I'm open, and would appreciate it.
Oh one more thing ... thanks for having me.
