If You Were Here...#7

Post Card #7

Greetings! Hope the weather is fine where you are! Over here, it’s like this:

I thought I’d write you of how I help my son shave; how, when it’s my turn, I perform this intimate task in closeness with my grown child; how, as I lather his stubble with shaving cream, I involuntarily begin to sing – To shave-a da face, to trim-a da beard – a tune still lingering from my college days working the costume crew for the musical Sweeney Todd; and, how I might show him the shaving contest scene from the movie, but probably not reveal the rest of the Demon Barber of Fleet Street’s grisly plot, since he might not allow me near his neck with a razor if I did.

But a slight variation has unfolded. One night last week, my son was hesitant to get a shave, but said “no” when asked if he wanted a beard (like his dad and others he knows). To split the difference, I decided to make-a da bristle clean as a whistle on his cheeks and neck, but leave whiskers to grow on his lip and chin. Sure, his electric beard trimmer doesn’t sing to me the way a razor does – but the gentleman seems to like his scruffy new goatee so far. :)

That’s the view from here - more soon!