Memory Monday: Facial Hair in My Family

Me, my husband, and our son

FACIAL HAIR IN MY FAMILY

One year after my husband went with our son to Boy Scout summer camp for a week, he came home with a beard, which he thought would make me fuss and cry out when he tried to snuggle with my neck. What he hadn’t realized was that the hair on his face had grown long enough that it wasn’t scratchy any more. I loved it!!! I loved the look. I loved the feel of it. So he kept it—for twenty years!

As I looked through our family pictures, I noticed something. A lot of my ancestors had facial hair, too. Here are some of their pictures.

One of my paternal great-grandfathers

My other paternal great-grandfather

One of my maternal great-grandfathers

My other maternal great-grandfather

Now, I have to admit that I never saw my father, my father-in-law, and neither of my grandfathers with facial hair. As a matter of fact, I remember quite well talking to my father-in-law (who loved his son very deeply) about it one day years ago. He said he would never trust a man with facial hair (actually, I think he said a man with a mustache). I looked at him and asked what if his son had a mustache, and he said he would never trust him either (and my father-in-law wasn’t smiling).

What are your feelings about facial hair? Do you love it or do you hate it?