My Moustache Heroes

A couple more moustache heroes need to be highlighted.  Inspired by Brian's post, I will follow suit.  I, too, am blessed to have fathers in my life that are now, or have been, living the moustachiod American lifestyle.

First, my dad, Wayne.  I can hardly remember many days when my dad had a completely clean shaven face.  It was seasonal, though, his beard efforts.  Smooth in the summer, wiry in the winter.  Each time a new Spring would roll around, the fresh face would emerge from it's cloak of a rugged beard.  I admired the both the practicality and the execution of it all.  At some point during my high school days, though, we both made an effort at a goatee.  His was better.  That is all that needs to be said.  And he's never looked back since then... until a recent road trip to Louisville took us to the Derby City Chop Shop www.derbycitychopshop.com for straight razor shaves.  (Highly recommend this spot.) Thus, the fu manchu was born!

Perched atop my parents' old dresser was the wedding photo the elicited a snicker or muffled chuckle even when I was 10 years old. I remember the beard he rocked and that brown suit very vividly.  I'm not sure if he was joking, but I've heard him say he wants to be buried in that suit.  Which is good because my mother says if he's caught wearing it again, he's a dead man.  All in good fun!

Next, my father-in-law, Steve.  He had donned the same glorious moustache for a full 40 years until last Spring.  Your read that right! Count them... one two three four decades.  In fact, his wife had never seen him without it.  Not once.  It is still hard not to picture him with golden locks on his upper lip.  It was iconic.  Anything that stands the test of time to the tune of 40 years, deserves legen...

wait for it...

... dary status.

Here's to two more great moustaches!

Grow a 'mo.

Brandon