El Gaucho

Dear Man,

I strongly recommend that you grow a mustache if you have not already done so. By no means am I an expert, but when I have grown a mustache in the past the results have been spectacular. I am not bragging.

Primarily, you should grow a mustache because you can, but there are other benefits as well.

You should grow a mustache because it gets things done.

Yes, you will face opposition from your wife: “Okay, are we about done with the roustabout look?” Your teenage daughter will take it as one more opportunity for ridicule: “Who’s that creeper in our summer vacation photos? Oh, that’s Dad.” Friends who are really no more than acquaintances will say: “Dude, you look like a truck driver.”

Yes, initially your mustache may look like coffee grounds glued to a Smokey the Bear preschool project. But nothing worth having comes easy. Or, looks very good to begin with. Or, starts without feeling itchy. This is the fourth law of physics, and its corollaries.

But, tell your wife this: two summers ago my family and I were on vacation in Wisconsin. Our Subaru with Illinois plates broke down, so I called a local mechanic for a tow and repair. This is a recipe for disaster. Did I mention I was in Wisconsin with a broken down Subaru with Illinois plates? I might as well have put a sign on my back that read: “Crack me in the head with your monkey wrench and take my wallet. Please.”

Luckily, earlier in the summer, I had grown a mustache. My best mustache ever. I fondly referred to it as “El Gaucho”. I have heard it referred to regionally as “The Biker”, “The Warrior”, and “The Pancho Villa”. Sometimes, mistakenly, “The Fu Manchu”. My wife referred to it as “that thing”. For two months “El Gaucho” presided over my top lip and trailed commandingly down each side of my face to the brink of each jowl. Even now I miss it. Him.

Anyway, the mechanic, who also had a mustache, came to tow the car and we talked and joked for an extraordinary amount of time. Previously I would have trembled with suspicion in the presence of an auto mechanic. Later, I would realize that it was my mustache that was doing the talking. The mustache going before me, greasing the wheel. Now greasing the palm. Because, not more than three hours later, I received a call that the car was done. Three hours. The cost? Ninety dollars. Can you believe it? Under “Illinois Tourist Car Repair” on Wisconsin mechanics’ service menus, this usually lists for $500 to $1000. Thank you, Mustache.

Tell your wife that. And tell her how on that entire vacation we got tables more quickly at restaurants. We received better service. And I believe we received discounts where before there had been none.

Mustaches get things done.

Sadly, at the end of the summer, I succumbed to familial pressure to remove it. El Emasculacion, in Spanish. It wasn’t until this fall that I resurrected “El Gaucho”. So as not to arouse suspicion, I started with a beard, but soon after carved away the superfluous to reveal my Old Friend.

The responses were the same from my family. Blah, blah, blah. But, one Tuesday night, mustache in tow, I was working at a reading program at an income-eligible apartment complex in our community. We provide reading and homework help for kids. A preschool girl named Cassie, and I, were engrossed in putting together a circus animal puzzle on the floor. Without announcement, she stuck her hand in my face. She rubbed it back and forth across my mustache for about five seconds. One monkey. Two monkey. Three monkey. Four monkey. Five monkey. Then she whispered to her friend, “Ellie, come see this.”

And, Ellie did. Then Cassie patted me on the head like a dog.

It was funny.

But later I reflected that, maybe it wasn’t so funny. In most low-income apartment complexes there are very few men. Almost every family is single moms and kids. And from what I had heard, Cassie’s dad, or step-dad, was in prison. So, a mustache, and a man for that matter, must be a strange animal. It reinforced in me that a mustache gets things done; whether it be reduced auto repair bills, or more importantly, building bridges with kids that need some healthy male influence and connection. This particular mustache grabbing incident reminded me that men have some responsibility to act like a dad to kids that need one.

So, in conclusion, Man, you should grow a mustache. Because you can. And the cost of that ability is responsibility. Winston Churchill said something like that. Just think how much more he could have accomplished, had he sported a powerful “El Gaucho”. Godspeed in your efforts.

Warm Regards.