May 10th, 2012 The dreaded beard. Lose the beard, the family and friends say. "Come on, I'll take you to the barber myself." (brother(s)) "That beard, isn't you, Chris? Lose it." (sister.) "What's with growing the beard, man?" (friend.) I never thought I could grow a full beard. I would shave before work because I had no choice but to shave. We cannot grow facial hair on road patrol or in a specialized unit. Unless it rose above the upper lip. In law enforcement, the beard is equal to a dirty Sanchez. I would shave the night before my scheduled work day, and that would be sufficient for me to go a whole week before I had to shave again. I always thought beards never worked for me, honestly. But only because I didn't know I could grow one at age thirty-eight. The mustache would never reach the whiskers on my chin. So I thought. But I only grew it a little for this long to find out. The hair follicles on my face would slowly grow out, lea...
It's time to move forward and blog about life's journeys, discoveries and my short stories I have always wrote. I will always be Captain Imperefecto because I lead an imperfect life.