A Day Over 25 Years in the Making

Sunday was Father's Day. This day held special significance to me for a number of reasons. Number one: I got to spend time with my family which is always a treat. Number two: Sunday was my first Father's Day as an almost father. That has to be worth something. However, the number three reason of significance was by far, the most significant.
In 1980, Fuddruckers was established, Whole Foods was incorporated, the space shuttle was invented, and my dad began growing his mustache. All of these items are important and worthy of mention, however, in my household and in the homes of those I love, few inventions or landmarks hold a candle to my father's mustache. In fact, since my birth and the subsequent birth of my younger, olive-skinned, brother, a razor has never even skimmed the follicles secured north of my father's lip. He didn't want to shave it and, more importantly, my mom would not let him. All of this came to pass on Sunday.
The pressure came slowly. Gradually increasing in persistence and measure, my brother, my wife, and various friends and family, began encouraging my father to shave off the stash, insisting the time had come for a change. At first he was worried, cried even. Then, little by little, he began to break. I saw it first in his eyes. A little glimmer of hope. The chance to finally evade the Borat-impersonator persona. You could see a little thought bubble appear above his head each time he saw a razor, picturing a day without looking like a guy with one of those sunglasses/nose/mustache disguises on. He could have a fresh start, a younger, hipper, more dapper him. And then, all of a sudden, on the eve of his 5oth year on this planet (over half of which living with the mustache), he was ready for the shave. The documentary below depicts the monumental moment, and those leading up to it, in all its glory.

Mandie and Melissa giggled, cried, and screamed as he shaved it. It was like we were all sharing a sacred moment together. Justin and I are still adjusting to our new father. It feels like we don't even know him anymore. My mom wasn't too happy about the new look. She prefers her man to have a stash, but few can argue that the man looks a good (and I mean good) 10 years younger. His mom (my grandma) stood up, hooted, hollered, and clapped at her son's new look. She said, and I quote, "I have my son back." Oh the baggage that that facial hair carried. He said that he is going to keep it shaved until at least his 50th birthday, July 11th, at which point he will re-evaluate his new found self and decide what the future of his face will be. Let's hope he chooses well.