By DAVID EPPS
Pastor

For the third time in my life, I have a beard.

The first attempt was back in about 1976. I was a social worker for the state of Tennessee, working in the field of child abuse and neglect, and wanted a more "rugged" look. In a couple of months, I had grown a dark brown, but mostly unkempt, beard that made me look a bit like one of the Grateful Dead. I didn't like the way it looked and got rid of it.

Later, in the early 1990s, I tried again and, to my surprise, a salt-and-pepper growth appeared on my face that made me look much older than my age. Besides, I looked a bit like Yasser Arafat. Again, after a couple of months, a very nice lady barber helped me get rid of it.

Last May, my wife and I went on vacation for two weeks. Like a lot of guys who escape the grind to enjoy the sand and surf of the Gulf of Mexico, I chose not to shave. After two weeks, I looked like a sunburned homeless man. After returning home, I started to shave but my wife, to my amazement, asked me to let it grow a bit. "Why not?" I thought, and put the razor down.

Over the next few weeks, a very disturbing thing happened. The hair on my face grew and produced a nearly snow white covering. Several times, horrified at the scene in the mirror, I picked up the razor, only to have my wife ask me to leave it alone.

"But why?" I cried.

"Because I like it," she retorted simply.

Since then, my face has been the subject of conversation and comparison among many of my friends. "You look like Burl Ives," said one. "Even if you can't sing."

At least two dozen people have given me their Christmas lists and several have promised to leave cookies and milk for me when I come down the chimney.

One man said, "You look kinda like Kenny Rogers on a bad steroid trip."

Another remarked, "You look like Ernest Hemingway after he committed suicide."

One suggested last weekend that, if I shaved off everything except a mustache and goatee, I would be a dead ringer for Colonel Sanders. Such are the "friends" I have.

Personally, I think that my wife wants me to keep the beard for one of two reasons:

(1) Because it is so white, it makes me look twenty years older than I really am. Hence it looks like I robbed the cradle when we are in public together.

(2) She wants me to cover up as much of my face as possible.

She claims that it makes me look much more distinguished. Which may mean that, without a beard, I look very undistinguished. One young lady in our church said that the beard makes me appear more friendly which can only mean that I must have appeared pretty darn unfriendly before last May.

Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I tired of it all and grabbed the razor again. This time my wife played her trump card. She said, "I think it makes you look sexy."

My hand froze in mid-flight on its way to my face.

"Sexy?"

"Yes, I think it makes you look sexy."

Now, I'm not fooled for a moment. I know that women are sneaky, conniving, and fight unfairly. They have all sorts of feminine weapons in their arsenal that they use on clueless, unsuspecting men. Just ask poor Romeo, or Julius Caesar, or Samson. Or all those guys that bought Elizabeth Taylor that jewelry, including a 33.19 carat diamond. And we guys just fall for it all!

So, I'm not unaware of this trick. I know that this is a ploy designed to feed a male's delicate ego and cause him to do something that he really doesn't want to do. I really want to shave. The beard is hot and causes my face to sweat. I don't want to look distinguished. I don't want to look like Santa, or Burl, or Kenny, or Hemingway, or the Colonel and I sure as shootin' don't want to look OLD! I know that she's not telling the truth especially that part about looking sexy.

Still, it's not every day that a gray-headed, white-bearded, overweight (although very lovable and cuddly), 51 year-old grandfather of five, with one on the way, gets called "sexy." So, on the off-chance that she's telling the truth, as unconvincing as it sounds, I'll not shave. Not today anyway. But, for Pete's sake, please stop encouraging your kids to climb on my lap and give me their Christmas lists! It's not proper. Besides, I'm distinguished, you know.

[David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in the Coweta/Fayette County area of south metro Atlanta. He may be contacted at FatherDavidEpps@aol.com or at www.ctkcec.org.]

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