I had a lot of fun growing my beard recently, and Herman Melville liked it, too... Those curly locks were sacrificed for MOvember, and they are fondly missed. However, duty calls!
And to soothe my hurting heart and freshly scraped face, I would like to pay homage to the only reason I am able to grow a decent beard:
I am my father's son.
When it comes to beards, Dad knows a thing or two. His beard-growing prowess is legend-hairy!
When I was a young lad, living with my Mom and Dad and little brother in Lincoln, Nebraska, Dad saw an advertisement for a beard growing contest. This contest was sponsored by a local bank to celebrate Nebraska's Centennial of Statehood.
Not only did Dad enter the contest, but he won the top prize for the best overall beard. Some details are in the article below. Let's assume the date was a typo!
Dad was 28 years old in this picture. The contest was announced just 6 months before the judging, so his beard was less than six months in the making.
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| Here is a picture of Dad's prize-winning beard for the Nebraska Centennial in 1967 |
All of the grooming was done at home. Dad had some help from Mom, and the results were spectacular!
Contestants dressed in period costume. Dad dressed as a banker might have been in 1867. He had arm-bands that bankers used to keep their sleeves pulled back tightly and some round spectacles that I borrowed and accidentally broke while enacting Ebenezer Scrooge in a middle school production of A Christmas Carol. Mom dressed the part too, with a beautiful yarn-dyed taffeta gown she made herself. I was six at the time and I remember Dad grooming his beard on Sunday mornings before church and listening to the men bantering about it after service.
After winning the local contest in Lincoln, he went on to earn 2nd place and a big trophy in the Lancaster County contest.
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