It was a mistake. I was freehanding it with the electric trimmer and I plowed a single trough down to the skin from my throat to my chin. There was no fixing it except to shave off the entire beard and let it start over again.
I’ve had that beard since I was in my twenties when I grew it out to play Jesus in the church musical. Over time it turned from dark and full to gray enough for me to play Methuselah.
I sent my sons a picture and they said it was going to take some getting used to. My wife, Sylvia, stares wordlessly at me. It’s strange to me, too. I feel undressed when I go outside and feel the breeze on my cheeks (Don’t snicker).
I look in the mirror and I’m startled. The mask of gray whiskers is removed and I see a person I had forgotten.
Hi. How are you?
You don’t have to play Jesus anymore.
Deep Calls 