James F. Ruccio

To the family of James Ruccio

It was with great sadness that I read of Jimmy's recent passing. I first met him when I was about 9 or 10 years old. My mother had just shoved me through the front door of Payne's Barber Shop. I expected to see Mr. Payne standing there, ready to administer his usual insurance salesman haircut to me.
Instead, Jimmy, who was recently hired at the shop, was standing beside chair #1. It didn't take me long to realize that the man was a slave to fashion. He was sportin' finely tailored dress slacks, a pointy-collared silk shirt, and the finest pair of Italian leather shoes that I had ever seen. "Hiya doin', young man", he said, as he shook my hand. "Hop up in the chair and we'll take care of business." He wrapped my neck in that skinny strip of tissue paper, covered me with his barber's cape, and applied a big stainless steel clip that held everything in place. Then he took a few steps back, and studied my cranium. After a minute or so, he spoke. "Is this the hair style you want, or the hair style that your mother wants you to have?" Without hesitation, I told him that I wanted something extremely different. "Describe it", Jimmy said. "I wanna look like a Beatle, or an Animal, or a Rolling Stone!", I replied. It was right then that the two of us began a seven year conspiracy to undermine my mother's authority. With every subsequent haircut, Jimmy would lengthen my do by about an eighth of an inch. Slowly, but surely, I became what I wanted to be. And I couldn't have accomplished it without Jimmy's help. Over the next 40 years, it was indeed rare for anyone to catch a glimpse of my ears.
I want to express my deepest sympathies to Jimmy's family and many friends.

Sincerely,
Jeff Rausch

Nancy (NCR) - I'm so sorry to read of the passing of your brother. May he rest in peace.
Nancy T (NMT)