The Great Beard Rebellion

I grew my first beard out of rebellion. I was told by an authority figure that I could not have a beard. So I grew one.

Actually, one of the few genuine talents that I possess is the ability to grow hair. Recently, the amount of facial hair I've had has been directly proportional to the amount of gray I've had. So I went from a full beard in 1993 to a goatee. In 2oo7 I began wearing a droopy sided mustache. They used to be called Fu Manchu's. (Back when people watched black and white movies or actually read books.)

I discovered very early in life that I had this talent for growing facial hair. I wasn't one of those kids that shaved in the 5th grade, or anything. Although, because the school system did not practice social promotion in the early 60's, I was technically old enough to. But I do remember, in high school, having to shave before school every day and again that evening if I had a date.

I never grew a beard or mustache in senior high because our school system still had dress codes and grooming codes when I graduated in 1970. I did, however, have sideburns to the bottom of my earlobes. The longest the code would allow.

When I joined the Air Force after high school, I ended up stationed on a multi service base along the coastline of Turkey. This meant that I worked along side of Army guys, and Marines, and Navy guys. The Navy guys were allowed to have beards. Which I thought was really cool. Unfortunately, the Air Force rules prohibited beards and severely limited the size and shape of any mustaches.

So, the authority figure that was telling me that I could not grow a beard when all the rest of my friends had one, was the United States of America. More specifically, the U.S. Air Force.

When I realized that I would never be permitted to grow a beard I decided to go along with the program and I began shaving five times a day. After about three days of this I had the worst razor rash in the eastern hemisphere. When I went to the base doctor for some cream or ointment, I explained that it was a chronic condition. I left the doctor's office with a tube of ointment and a medical excuse - giving me permission to grow a beard.

I had that beard until I left the military. I shaved it off then mainly because nobody was telling me what to do about it anymore, so the need no longer existed.

I've kind of been like that my whole life.

I would always have just as much facial hair as my employers would tolerate. Don't get me wrong, I was always well groomed. But I did enjoy pushing the envelope.

At one point I had the same beard for decades. One day I decided to shave it off and my kids did not even recognize me. My younger son actually cried. He was 23 at the time.

I can say, however, that the theme of facial hair and rebellion have gone hand in hand throughout my life. I feel like I have established my authority over my own face and I have been kind of enjoying the clean-shaven look recently. I had actually forgotten that I had a cleft in my chin.

Last week, much to the surprise of many people, I began growing a full beard again. When asked about it, I've been giving a variety of reasons. I've said that I am preparing for a covert CIA mission where I have to replace a bearded foreign agent who was captured several weeks ago. I've told people that I had realized how much I looked like my photos in the Post Office and figured it was time to change my appearance again. (I call this one the Richard Kimble gambit.) And I've been reminiscing about my Air Force rebellion days, as well.

So why am I growing a beard? As it turns out, the petite red head thinks that beards are sexy... and who am I to argue with logic like that?

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