Weeks Eighteen and Nineteen: January 17th to 30th

I was pondering the queries of anyone who stumbles upon this site out there. Now that seemingly everything is connected in microseconds, there is no hiding anything launched into the web that is e-communication. Based on some recent news events, I am sure some folks would wish that not to be the case.

I could imagine someone finding this blog and wondering: "Why does this guy insist on taking close-ups of his face? It's not like he's a good-looking dude..." or "What's with this dude, does he want to be an actor or something?" Then, for the few who might actually read the accompanying text, one can only imagine speculations about me and what kinds of screws rattling loose in my upper region.

No matter: as the beard grows, so does its notoriety. People who have seen me nearly every day of its growth now feel free to comment on it, often with inquiries about how long I plan to keep this up. Though a mostly innocent question, I love the facial expressions with which they deliver it, and revel in the fact that most people make no attempt to control their looks of disgust. Even my students ask, "Um, when are you going to cut it again? It's too big!" Every once in a while one of them pokes a finger into my chin or jaw and then removes it to tell a friend, with shock, "Whoa--it's thick!" One Fifth Grader who hadn't seen me in a couple of weeks (they are in the opposite wing of our school) stopped dead in the middle of the hall yesterday and said, "Oh, NICE beard!" Why thank you; I agree.

Weeks Sixteen and Seventeen: January 3rd to 16th

Normally, I would not even consider naming a beard--that look of rugged manliness--anything close to something my own daughters, those local supporters of anything and everything princess, would say. But, this name did not come from my daughters. For some strange reason, this was the first time many people at school, and ion public, took notice of the beard for its length and proportions. Perhaps it may not have been all that strange after all, considering I finally decided to comb out the chin-locks and let the hairs fly in their non-pillow-pressed form.

What resulted was a tumult of comment and inquiry like so little that preceded it. One of my former students, now a Fifth Grader, should get the full credit for the name, as she came to visit one morning and talked to me for a few minutes before glancing at it and stopping mid-sentence to say, "Wait, what happened to your beard? Why's it so fluffy?" This was among the most popular question of the past two weeks. But a great many people praised the sheer magnitude of that hair which I had previously tucked under my jaw, saying things such as, "I like the new look," and, "It suits you," not to mention, "Yeah, my husband tried to grow one and it never fills in...it's too patchy." The things you learn about spouses, and people, through facial hair history or quite interesting.

Frankly, the hair reaching back, ivy-style, and clamping at my earlobe, and the hairs trailing down my neck to scratch near my jugular had been driving me a bit crazy for a little while. So, after the shower one evening, when I had a brief moment of let's-shave-this-sucker panic, I combed it out. Sure, some tears sprang to my eyes in that involuntary way, such as when you pluck a nose hair (not, of course, that any of you would know anything about that...) but the relief of the smooth, flowing facial locks was quite a sight to behold.

What adventures the beard will encounter in the coming weeks remains to be seen. Our school nurse got a glimpse of it this week and inquired, "Whoa, what's goin' on with that beard, Abe Lincoln?" Oh yeah, mission accomplished!

Weeks Fourteen and Fifteen: December 20th to January 2nd

Ah, those fortunate few students who were present right until the bell on the afternoon of December 22nd--the last full day before the extended Winter Break--they were the only ones to glimpse this epic in the making. For this photo, I combed-out the hair that had been tucked under my chin for weeks, surprising even myself. Those students, both of them, present to witness the spectacle were on the verge of lack of speech, which is saying something for a Second Grader who has only days of free time spreading out before him until the New Year.

I had to savor my glory while it lasted. My parents had been raving about my brother's face-mane for weeks, and in that way in which only hopeful mothers may rave: "Oh, I do hope you boys will shave before we do family photos at Christmas. Of course, she knows both of us well enough to be sure that saying something like that is the only sure way to have the near-twin manes appear in all Christmas photos.

Since I do not get to see my brother very often--he, like my parents, lives in New Hampshire--I had no idea what to expect. I hoped only to capture a photo of Brothers in Beards while we visited. Time will tell...