The Joys and Mystique of the Mustache
I have learned it is dangerous and provocative to allow my dear readers to give too much input regarding the content of this blog. Amy Sides left a message on my FaceBook account suggesting a post on the joys of my mustache. She asked if I have ever shaved it off, or if I have a chilly upper lip. OK, Amy, fair questions.
My mustache was born in Central America many years ago when I would have been about 25 years old at the time. As I remember there was nothing chilly about my upper lip. We were living in Managua, Nicaragua at the time where the temperature sometimes got down to 100 degrees Fahrenheit by midnight and Hell was a local call. Maybe I thought a mustache would slow down the flow of sweat running down my face. I think I imagined that a mustache would make me look more grown up and mature and perhaps assist me in looking a bit more Latino and less Gringo.
No, I have never, ever shaved it off. It quickly became part of my persona. I can’t imagine myself without it. I’m afraid my dogs would not recognize me and bite me. Maybe my wife and daughters would not recognize me. I might not even recognize myself! That’s the most frightening part! Maybe I would consider shaving it off in exchange for a $10,000 donation to our campus fund. Do you think?
There was a time when I had no mustache. The world was simpler. Birds sang and children played in the streets. A few people picked up on my droopy eyes and said I looked bit like Elvis. (No jokes please).
One day I grew a mustache on a whim. My self-image changed. Dogs growled. I kept getting targeted for extra screening even before 9/11. Mothers clutched their babies tightly.
At least half a dozen security screeners have told me I look a bit like Tom Selleck. Others think I look like Saddam Hussein. Some say I look like “that guy.” I speak and some think I sound like Sean Connery. (Doesn’t he usually have a mustache?) One time a cop begged me to say, “Welcome to the Rock.”
A friend, Rick Johnson, had a mustache forever. Recently, he shaved it off. When I saw him, I thought I knew him but wasn’t sure. When I knew it was him, I wondered what was different. It took me a while to notice it was his mustache that was gone. He looks ten years younger. He dropped weight, too. Is the younger part the mustache or the weight? Maybe I should Photoshop my picture just for kicks.
So, what do you think? Keep it, shave it? Corn rows? Braids? Handlebars? Younger? Older? Goatee? No matter what you say, I probably wouldn’t have the guts to really do anything. … unless, of course, there was that $10,000 donation!
And, no, Amy, I do not decorate my mustache either for Christmas or Easter.
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http://itchurch.com Jim Edwards
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http://chrisbeggs.wordpress.com Chris Beggs


