As I left Dayton last week after a series of meetings at the Kettering Foundation, I walked by this sign: “The Barber Shop Is Closed.” It was taped to a covered-over window just inside security at Dayton airport. Tip’s was gone.

I’d always wondered about Tip’s. It was a large barbershop with two chairs, behind an expanse of glass. I rarely saw anyone in it. There was often a person — whom I assumed was Tip — sitting on the bench opposite the barbershop, sometime resting, sometimes reading.

Over the years (I’ve been going to Dayton for a long time now), I developed a profile in my head. I imagined the barbershop used to have been quite busy, as gentlemen coming into one of the business hubs of the Midwest needed a quick trim on the way to or from their meetings. But as tastes changed and so did the times, I imagine the shop saw less and less activity.

The faster the world spun, the slower the shop might have seemed to.

It turns out that the closing was not a  negative thing for Tip. Turns out he’s Clair Tipton. He retired after 35 years.

But when I saw the “closed,” sign, I felt a twinge of nostalgia for something I’d never known. I regretted never having gotten my hair cut at Tip’s.

Funny how you don’t know you’ll miss something, often, until it’s gone.