In celebration of the 7th anniversary of the Bearded Odyssey, I am re-running the series throughout the summer. This chapter was originally published in The Daily Nebraskan on June 8, 2003.
There comes a time in a man’s life when he must stop fighting nature and accept his destiny.
There comes a time in a man’s life when he must accept the master plan of those little things that grow out of his face.
There comes a time in a man’s life when he must grow a beard.
I’ve never had a beard, and to be honest, I’m not sure I ever will, at least as far as true beard aficionados define them. I’m not the most facial-folliculated person. In fact, I’m probably one of the least facial-folliculated people I know.
Mine is not one of those peach-fuzz babyface problems – more a case of some severely dry patches in the field.
My dad has a great beard. He’s had a beard as long as I’ve known him. My grandpa never had a beard to my knowledge, but he had some great chops for a while. My dad took over farming from my grandpa, and took those chops and turned them into a great beard.
He’s been thinking about retiring from farming and wanting to lose the beard lately. I consider it my role and my destiny to take over in his footsteps; I will let my beard grow, and one day I will have a yard in which I may proudly mow perfect diagonals.
A lot of great men beyond my dad have had beards. Abraham Lincoln. Jesus. Moses. Other Biblical characters. Randy Savage. Jamie from the Real World/Road Rules Battle of the Sexes.
Will I be remembered as a great bearded man? Probably not. Most likely, my beard will look like I slept in some hair clippings after accidentally splattering a few random patches of glue on my face. But it’s not really about how beautiful and/or manly my beard is; it’s about the quest.
While some may grow a beard out of some statement of manhood or to hide nasty facial scars, my beard will be part of a much bigger process.
You see, the beard is a way of separating oneself from the world. The most unique, personalized thing any of us have is our face, and growing the beard is like nature’s way of taking that away from everyone else. It’s pulling your hairy hankie over your mouth before you rob a bank, like bandits did in the Old West.
It is that withdrawal from society then that motivates me to use my beard to jump in — to take this newfound anonymity as an opportunity to head out on some truth-finding adventures.
I will road-trip to the four corners of the United States and places in between, such as Idaho, seeking adventures of danger and enlightenment wherever I may find them and wherever they may find me. All the while, as my experience grows, so shall my beard.
We will grow together, in fact — the reader, the author and the facial hair.
When I tell people my plan for the summer, the typical response is “Oh, you’re following Kerouac’s footsteps?” or they try to relate this to some other beat-poet yippie-doo.
No. I just want to drive around the country, get in adventures and grow a beard. Any connection to anything hippie-related is an unfortunate coincidence.
Weekly(?) updates in the Summer Daily Nebraskan will keep you posted as to where I am, what’s happening to me, and how the beard is doing. I have a natural tendency to meet strange people and get into strange situations; hopefully these will outweigh any bearded deficiencies.
Join me, my friends, as we embark on The Bearded Odyssey.