By the hairs on my chinny chin chin
‘Who were these hipsters? What did they want? Better coffee?’
FATHER still calls and asks if I have enough razor blades. He knows that the answer will be that I have none, which is more than enough, because I haven’t shaved in about three years. His is a different generation, where beards were worn by druids and Marxists (some things don’t change). He views my beard as a mild affront to every leg-up in life he’s ever given me (there were plenty) and it would not surprise me to wake up in the to shave it. Which, when you think about it, would be pretty impressive for a man in his seventies (my dad, not Tom Cruise. Not ).
