Santa Claus is Comin' to Town (Or, Dad's Beard)

Earlier this week, I turned on the tv and saw that my favorite claymation Christmas movie was coming on that night at 7pm.  "Why are you recording that one?" Casey asked as I scheduled the dvr.  "I've never really liked it."  And, really, when compared to that darling little misfit reindeer, Santa Claus' bizarre origin story - complete with a nazi-like political leader and a Winter Warlock - really isn't all that charming.  As a kid, though, I was entranced by this Christmas special, in part because I thought the  red-haired teacher love interest of Kris Kringle was beautiful and I wanted to be her.  But the main reason I liked the show was because Kris Kringle had red hair, too.  More specifically, Kris Kringle had a red beard, just like my dad.

It's weird to make an association between my dad and a young claymation santa, but his beard has always been one of his more spectacular and unique qualities.  Lots of kids in the eighties had dads with beards, but my dad's was different. Although the hair on his head was never more than auburn, the beard on his face was RED, and it was ever-present.  The only time dad didn't have his beard was during my middle school years, during which time he had a job that required him to shave it (he kept his mustache, though, which I never got used to in isolation).  I would like to point out that this period of no facial hair coincided almost directly with my parents' divorce, which suggests to me that dad's beard was also like a protective amulet against evil, the removal of which caused heartache for everyone.

When I think about dad's beard, the main thing I think about are whiskery kisses, the coarse feeling of his beard against my face as he hugged me.  But when I see pictures of it, I think of it as an amazing teller of time.  When I see a picture of dad, I can gauge when it was taken simply by looking at his beard. As he aged, dad's beard gradually transitioned from red, to darker gray, to almost silvery white.  In fact, it's interesting that I used to associate the young Santa Claus with dad because, in his later years, EVERYONE associated him with Santa Claus.  He had a head full of gray hair, deep-set blue eyes, a merry laugh, and - of course - the beard.  I don't necessarily think he loved being associated with a giant elf, but he encouraged such talk with his wearing of suspenders (and, at Christmastime, he always wore red ones). And by having such a cheerful, gentle nature.

When you are setting out cookies and milk for santa tonight, take a minute to think about my dad, who had the spirit of santa claus, as well as his beard.  To help you along, here's a picture of dad from my early days, rocking his awesome beard.

Me and my red-bearded dad.