Tom Selleck — Mustache Hall of Fame; Sam Elliott — Mustache Hall of Fame; Mark Twain — Mustache Hall of Fame; Albert Einstein — Mustache Hall of Fame; Wyatt Earp — Mustache Hall of Fame; Hulk Hogan — Mustache Hall of Fame.
The men listed above are mustache heroes of mine. And now, I am prepared to join them in the Mustache Hall of Fame. I will tell you the basis of my self-nomination.
Yesterday I bought a sandwich at a shop in Old Town Fort Collins, a very hip place, in a college town boasting Colorado State University. Until then, I had not seen myself as a person with facial hair to which others aspire. What changed my self-image?
The sandwich shop has a line from the sandwich makers to the cashier. The cashier was a clean-shaven young man. As I paid my bill, he said, “I want to comment on your mustache. I really like it.”
“Thanks,” I cleverly responded with appropriate humility.
“I am clean-shaven now, but I used to have a mustache that kinda went down around my mouth like yours. I gave it up because, well, mine was not as, as, I’d say as robust as yours.” Robust? The kid was obviously an English major.
I could see the admiration in his eyes. I did not want to act superior. I did not want to give false encouragement. I tried to find the right words.
“Aw, shucks,” I eloquently began, “It don’t happen overnight. Be patient.”
I think I gave that young man some hope. Maybe someday, if he works diligently at proper cultivation of his whiskers, he too can find a place in the Mustache Hall of Fame. Of course, there are no guarantees. It is a pretty select group.
It is a special touch to have the tips highlighted in silver. Some of us have it, some of us don’t.