And So I Grew a Beard

When my father passed away , I was lost. I was lost in the way that a familiar star was no longer in my nightly sky. I expressed some emotion, but not nearly as much as I was feeling nor as often.

So what should one do with that pent up emotion? I decided, without a great amount of analysis, that I would just let my beard grow.  For how long? I don’t know, probably not for a real long time – certainly not until Christmas because with a white beard and a protruding belly, well you know what I am getting at. Nobody wants to be sitting down at the shopping mall and have some young child run up to you and say, ” Mommy, Mommy, it’s Santa Claus.”

I have to admit though, the beard is emotionally working for me. I often find myself tugging on it and immediately begin thinking about my father. And, it is wonderful to stroke it while pondering decisions at work. It is a wisdom beard.

I am getting a lot of comments about it from people I work around. They try to be nice, but I can read between the lines. “Oh…oh…I see you’ve let your beard grow out….I…I…like…it.” That is not their true feelings. Maybe they should grow a beard too to get in touch with their true feelings. Just an idea.

Anyway, yes I look 110 years old now and sometimes that is what I feel emotionally, so that is o.k.. Plus, I know that when I do shave it off, people will say, “Hey you look great.” I will be able to say, “I feel great.”


That was great lunch we had Dad. We parked along an old and little used road in the Sierra Nevada mountains, looked down on Donner Lake and ate what you kept saying was “a great hamburger.” I miss you. We miss you.


Tears in my Beard