Our society has long been segmented into factions — not just those based on politics or religion, but also on utility.

We pursue slots and get slotted. The world’s work has to be done.

Fundamental needs are met by those whose jobs are essential: farmers, line medical staff, and those who keep the utilities humming and communications viable.

Others keep order. Some put out fires.

Some people create things we need — cars, houses, and underwear. Some move us here and there, even across the oceans, while others keep track of things that need keeping track of.

People wash our clothes, and some continue — as my wife does — hanging them out to dry. Some drive trucks, others defend us.

Some people serve us in restaurants.

Still, others entertain us, making us laugh, cry, or scare the wits out of us.

There are people who can weld.

Some educate us, guiding us along paths that lead to tomorrow. Others keep us informed along the way.

Finally, there are those for whom the days pass quietly. Their time in productivity slots has passed. Now, they can contemplate sunrises and sunsets and can rest during the light.

However, this column is not meant to discuss the slots or the people who occupy them. Instead, my intent is to commend those among us who ease our passage to and through those positions.

I’m talking about beauticians and barbers.

Consider this:

My mother never told me I was handsome. Instead, she complimented my appearance by using an alternate term of flattery that implied limitations. She advised me I had a good-shaped head.

A good-shaped head has a dual benefit: a simple brush cut displays this cranial advantage to full effect, and it’s a haircut that can be obtained at a nominal cost. Nephi Torsch quickly provided one for 75 cents by inserting a quarter-inch Oster blade in his clippers.

Thus prepared, I journeyed forth. Though often puzzled, even perplexed, I was nevertheless confident I could navigate the paths, for I was sufficiently groomed to support an assurance within myself — an exemplar of the confidence and naivety of adolescence.

But aren’t we all of this persuasion to varying degrees? Don’t we all seek to project particulars of our appearance to an advantage? And do not hairdressers and barbers prepare us to venture forth with assurance — no matter the shape we’re in?

Peggy Campbell owns Roy’s barbershop. She graduated from both cosmetology and barber schools. Peggy has been cutting hair for a while and knows the texture of the profession.

When Peggy cuts my hair, she always comes around from behind and studies my appearance straight on to ensure I’m balanced. Good-shaped heads require symmetry.

She also maintains a balance otherwise, eschewing discussions of politics or religion and sticking to her roles as assurance creator and financial advisor.

Peggy told me that barber shops used to be hangouts where people gathered to communicate, commiserate, and tell lies. Many times, she gave haircuts to people who, though they insisted they needed one — didn’t, wanting only to spend more time with the folks in the shop.

Many customers are long-term acquaintances who have become family. She knows their children and grandchildren, and though she occasionally contemplates retirement, she knows she will miss them all when that time comes. When it does, her customers will miss her touch and the assurances she provides.

Marie Stepanski of All Waves Salon in Alpena has been a hairdresser since 1977. Sometimes, people come to her and throw down a gauntlet: “Give me a hairstyle that will make me look my best!”

But Marie parries that thrust with a counter, “What styles don’t you like?” is her standard retort.

After a few moments spent scrolling through memories of previously failed attempts at transference from beauty magazines or movie star-inspired images, the customer makes the concessions necessary for Marie to create an assurance.

There are times Marie will pause to place her hands on a customer’s shoulders.

In October 2018, Darby Hinkley, the Lifestyles editor of The News, wrote an engaging column about our community’s barbers. Peggy, Mark Uckman, and both Bill and Amy Grove were named. Jerry Newhouse, who is no longer cutting hair in this realm, was also mentioned.

The piece is well-composed and contains several interesting pictures. Perhaps the most interesting is the front window of the replica barber shop at Besser Museum. There, shaves were advertised for 10 cents, haircuts for 15.

I wonder what a brush cut would have set me back back then.

But no matter, it’s a haircut that, like so much else in life, I no longer aspire to.

Darby closed her column with a quote from Jim Rouleau. I believe Jim is our area’s senior barber. He cut my hair for years and is still producing assurances at his shop in his home at Grand Lake.

Darby quoted three words from Jim that summarized what he had learned over the years from engaging with a variety of personalities and opinions — a lesson we would all do well to consider.

We should aspire to enrich our lives through the company of each other so we can:

“Enjoy the conversation.”

Doug Pugh’s “Vignettes” runs monthly. He can be reached at pughda@gmail.com.