Have you ever looked at a set of photos and imagined another reality? Well I do that sometimes. This is the story of a beard and the people who love it…
Originally posted on The King of Isabelle Avenue:
I come from a long line of ancestors with prodigious facial hair. I don’t have any myself with the exception of my out-of-control eyebrows. Seriously, I could have them waxed on Tuesday, pluck them on Wednesday, and need to wax them again on Thursday – but this is not about me or my eyebrows. It’s about a long heritage of facial hair, mostly on men, and our celebration of this heritage as a family.
Let’s start at the beginning of the age of photography.
Of course, my brothers are no exception – they are fine examples of hirsuteness.
As I was saying earlier – my Pop had an amazing beard, a rich beard, one without rival, that is until now…
The big day arrives, family comes in from all over the country. Tommy prepares:
OK – I’m just kidding.
Congrats to Tommy and Shanda on their big day. It was…
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