Posted on Wednesday, December 29, 2004 10:26 AM
Last night, in a spur of the moment decision, I decided I couldn't handle the beard I had so proudly donned for the past two months. It had taken over me. I had forgotten it was there, and that started to worry me. It was so thick I could have hidden a pencil in it, and I didn't like that. I was afraid to smile at little kids, and little kids were probably afraid of me.
On my way home from work, I reluctantly headed to The Razor's Edge to see the one man I trusted with such a feat. As I entered the great man's place of business, he was startled, and had to do one of those squinty stare things to recognize me. He almost said "holy shit" but caught himself before the "t." Sal couldn't believe his eyes, and all he kept saying was "wow" while shaking his head in disbelief. I said "Sal, I want it all off." He just looked at me and smiled, because he knew he was the best man, the only man, for the job.
Sal worked away at my overgrown mop, like he has so many times before, just shaking his head and saying "wow....this is a thick one" over and over. The admiration was apparent in his tone of voice, comparable to someone in the presence of a great painting or witnessing an amazing athletic performance. Eventually he made his way down to the beard, and I feared his clippers wouldn't have enough power to tame the wild stallion very much alive on my face. They did, even without the need for auxiliary power. I'm struggling to describe the feeling when the clippers finally broke through and touched skin for the first time. It was sensational.
After everything was gone, and the straight blade to the back of the neck was complete, I shook the man's hand for a job well done. He asked me to stay and have a holiday drink with him (Sal stocks a small liquor shelf during the holidays). I graciously accepted his offer, and Brandy was his drink of choice. Cheers to the New Year and to beards. What an extraordinary man.
Despite its obvious shortcomings, there are a lot of things I'm going to miss about my beard. It doubled as an extra pillow, provided protection from the harsh winter elements, was fun to scratch, spawned some great conversations, temporarily removed me from the living hell that is shaving, yielded nicknames (i.e. Lumberjack, Grizzly, etc.), dominated, intimidated, inspired, and most of all, grew. It grew on me in both senses of the word. You haven't really lived until you've bearded.
As Ham has already requested, join our cause and honor all things man. We hope to see you next November.
Beard Strong,
schrags