I've just had three weeks off duty and done a gray check in the beard. My chin has gone bright white while the rest has remained dark. I look like I'm trying to swallow a skunk head first.

About fifteen years ago, when my beard covered the third button of my shirt, I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in quite a few years. Ramona is a memeber of the local German Baptist congregation, whose men grow quite long and prosperous beards. After a big hug on greeting, Ramona grabbed my whiskers and asked "What's this?"

I said "Mona, this is a beard, you ought to know what this is."

She gave me a big smooch on the cheek and delivered one of my favorite lines about facial hair. "Honey, kissing a man without a beard is like eating a taco without hot sauce."