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Date Posted: 08:38:34 01/16/06 Mon
Author: Kent Fletcher
Subject: Changes

Changes - © Kent Fletcher
January 16, 2006

Seems like every couple of years or so, I make some changes in my lifestyle, in my outlook, in my daily activities. One change happened last night.

See, I quit shaving the day of my retirement ceremony from the Navy, December 2, 1995. I had remembered that fateful day way back in 1978 when either SecNav or CNO had come down with the order that beards were no longer fashionable for the "new" Navy appearance, and I was determined to have my little revenge. At the time I was working with a First Class Yeoman who had a very well-groomed beard, and who threatened to give up some 16+ years to keep it. Of course, he didn't quit, and retired a couple of years later, and regrew his beard.

David Bowie — "Changes"
Oh yeah
Mm
Still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets and
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time

I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Don't tell them to grow up and out of it
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Where's your shame
You've left us up to our necks in it
Time may change me
But you can't trace time

Strange fascination, fascinating me
Ah changes are taking the pace I'm going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Pretty soon now you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time

So, on with the story. I had an appointment with a D.O. last week in Fort Worth, TX, re: my po' back. We yakked a while about what was going on - the dire pain in my left low back, took x-rays, talked some more about the pain and what was causing it, about the pain in my left hip and knee, about the flaccidity of the left calf muscle, and the weakness in my left ankle - i.e., foot drop. Then he asked how old I am. 59. He went back to my record for a moment, then asked me again my age. 59. He said something to the effect I really needed to get rid of the beard, the one I've had since I retired. The notion stuck with me all weekend. Hm.

Thinking about it, I remember some feller from Austin, TX, who had come to the NCTCOG in Arlington when I worked there. I had clipped the beard a tad too close in error that morning, so I had matched the rest of the facial hair in accordance with the wayward clip. The feller told me I'd look so much better without the beard, but I blew him off, as he didn't know me from Adam's housecat, and his observations were not cogent to the meeting at hand.

In the years since my retirement I've cultivated the beard, groomed it to my notions at any given time, or just let it go to hell in a handbasket. I remember walking into a stop-and-rob down the street from my residence one day, and two young whipper-snappers coming out, 12-13 years old, I'd guess. One of them looked at me, giggling, and asked if I knew Santa Claus. Of course, I told him, everyone knows Santa, why did he ask? The kids just giggled more and went off on their kid adventures. I didn't think anymore about it until I got home and happened to look in a mirror. My beard was nearly down to my belly! Being wintertime, it actually felt good, as the cold didn't penetrate so much, and Texas winters can be bitterly cold at times. Yeah, I trimmed it back a bit, and went on.

So, last night, I decided to take a long hot shower, let that water fall on my back for a bit, loosen up the muscles a bit. Stepping out and drying off, I confronted yet another mirror. Got to looking at the beard and realized a few things. First was that I'd said I'd not get rid of the beard for at least 10 years after my retirement, and that anniversary date passed in December 2005. Second was that the last time I'd trimmed it I'd mussed it up a tad, there was a gap in the middle of my chinny-chin-chin, and it looked just plain wrong. Third, I was kinda curious about my own face, as I'd not seen it clean in over 10 years. Fourth, I was getting kinda tard of all the gravies and ice cream and other assorted food stuffs falling in it, and having to wash my face more often. Fifth, I didn't particularly like the smell of burning hair when I lit a stubby ceegar. And lastly, the doc's words kept rattling around in the back of my haid.

And I thought, ah, what the hell, I can always regrow it. The scissors were right there on the counter, so it was snip, snip, snip. Then the beard trimmer to take off the stragglers of hair. Wow!

Can't say I really 'like' the new look, but it might just might grow on me for a change. Guess I'll let it ride for a week or so. Heck, I might even be able to converse with that other gender now, maybe even get a date! Hah!

So, here I sit, whacking out this little story, and occasionally reaching up to stroke my beard which is there no longer. And I can actually feel the wind from the fan blowing across my face. Weird. Kinda like the haircut I got when I reenlisted in 1975 in Millington, but that's another story. Guess I'd better find a camera and get a pic of the new, old me. Let y'all know what I really look like, now, huh? But a word of warning: Please be sitting if and when you see said pic, don't want you to fall down and hurt yourself!

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