My memory at times fails me, particularly when I try to recall events in my life … such as when I began growing a fall/winter beard.
I started it again this year a few days before the start of autumn. The autumnal equinox came and went a few days ago and my beard already was in full — or nearly full — swing.
It will remain on my puss until the first day of spring, sometime in March.
I’ve been known to cheat on growing the thing and then shaving it off. My dear wife disliked it when I was late starting in the fall, and she damn sure really didn’t like it when I shaved it off before the vernal equinox.
But she got over it and liked me just the same — with or without the facial flora. At least that’s what she told me.
It gets saltier each year I grow it, meaning it contains far more “salt’ than “pepper” these days.
The mustache? I started that thing when I was still in the Army. I believe it began sprouting in July 1970. I kept it for 10 years before I shaved it off in a fit of stupidity. I recall coming out of the bathroom sans ‘stashe. My sons took a look at me and started laughing. They never had seen Dad without facial hair. They kept laughing until two or three days later I decided “it’s coming back.”
Fifty-three years later, it’s still there, now accompanied by the beard that makes me proud.
As a former colleague and friend of mine, the late Claude Duncan, once told me: “You may have your share of shortcomings, but growing hair isn’t one of them.”
