“Here’s my beard, ain’t it weird?
Don’t be skeerd, it’s just a beard.”
My dad grew a beard. This is causing me…not really consternation. More confusion.
My dad has not had facial hair since before I was born. Of course, then, he had the dippy sideburns-attatched-to-mustache-with-no-beard thing that was popular in the 70’s. Since he (thankfully) shaved that nonsense off, he hasn’t had facial hair.
His hair has also been white since I was about 10 (he was 45 when I was born, and didn’t believe in Just For Men Haircare Solutions, since he didn’t have much hair), so the effect of a beard is to make him look like either:
a) Ernest Hemmingway
b) some sort of professor
c) Santa Claus
d) the Sea Captain on The Simpsons
e) Richard Dreyfuss, except older.
I can’t say I wasn’t warned. My dad told me he had grown a beard on a 6-day whitewater trip he took with my stepmom, and that he had let it remain for the remainder of their trip. He had said he was going to shave it off, but never actually mentioned getting rid of it.
He told me Ray Ann let him keep it just long enough to freak me out when I picked him up at the airport, and that he’s shaving it off next week. Thanks, Ray Ann…
I’ll try to find some pictures of him with and without his beard to show you guys exactly how different he looks, because it’s very hard to describe in words. Suffice it to say it’s really amusing.