Time looked like it stopped decades ago at Cockle's (not a bad name in that we can't all have one that's an exoskeleton armored shell literally the shape of love) Valley Barber Shop on Main Street of historic downtown Puyallup, meaning "generous people" from its Indigenous population who lived there 10,000 years before colonists, nestled in the shadow of Mount Rainier in the Pacific Northwest. Oldies played on the vintage radio. An industrial style oscillating fan wobbled while its blades stirred the air. A twelve pound pike on the wall presided over the regular crowd waiting for bargain-priced haircuts, and afterward kids got handed a penny to buy a gumball from the countertop machine. Brushes and bottles shook from the vibration of an eastern bound freight train rumbling on the railroad tracks directly behind the building running parallel to the street.