During the 2004 and 2005 major league baseball seasons, center field on the Boston Red Sox was patrolled by a fellow named John Damon. During those two seasons, Damon declined to cut his hair and he also declined to shave. When he batted, the batting helmet would often squirt upwards because of the pressure exerted by the mop of hair below it. The pitchers must have been distracted by the sight of Damon, who seemed like a Neanderthal man come to life. In any case, after the 2005 season, Damon opted for free agency and was signed by the New York Yankees, who have a rule against facial hair. Damon cut his hair, shaved his beard, and got married.
Thinking about Johnny Damon has led me to the subject of whiskers in general. I know there are men who have the luxury of growing a mustache. In recent years, the mustaches sometimes seem to grow beyond the mouth and come down on its sides. Whiskers are also necessary for those who wish to grow a goatee. And certainly they are necessary for those who wish to grow a beard. But absent the mustaches, the goatees, and the beards, may I ask what good are whiskers?
For my own part, my beard is so light that it makes no impression whatsoever. There is no chance that I could ever grow a goatee or a beard. But like millions of other men, the whiskers continue to grow and must be chopped off.
It is at this point that I must ask, why do men have whiskers? The answer must be idiopathic, which the medical profession will tell you means, when translated, “I don’t know.” Were whiskers grown to make men less appealing to wild animals? Again, I don’t know. But a whole industry has grown up around whiskers. There are the barbers and the people who make instruments to shave whiskers. There are pre-shaves and after-shave lotions, as well as soaps to make the beard soft. And for those who use electric razors, there are lubricants to make the shaver cut properly. My father used a straight razor which he honed on a leather strop. He insisted on shaving with that straight razor even after he became blind.
In my case, I came of age when safety razors were the norm. However, during my years in the American Army, particularly those years spent outside the United States, there was no hot water. Shaving with a safety razor in those days was more or less difficult.
Shortly after I was discharged from the Army, the Sunbeam Corporation produced an electric razor. So now I have been using electric razors of one kind or another for more than fifty years. My father contended that shaving your face with electricity was “not natural” and therefore, against God’s wishes. I believe he was wrong on that point and I continue to shave my face with a Norelco razor that is submersible.
There was a time when I was doing extensive traveling abroad, where the electric currents are different from those in the United States, requiring a transformer. In that case, I carried a heavy transformer to insure my smooth shaves.
Cat whiskers are a different story. Veterinarians contend that cat whiskers warn the cat when he is entering a space that is too narrow for him to pass. But this is totally a theory and so far I find it unconvincing. It has nothing to do with the whiskers that are chopped off my face from time to time.
Well you see that I have raised this question about whiskers and obviously I can provide no answers. I regret raising a question to which there is no answer. But if any of you who read these essays can provide this old essayist with a reason for men having whiskers, I would like to hear it.
My father would have suggested that it is not natural for us to know the answer to questions of this sort. Maybe he was right, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about them.
George Steinbrenner, who signed John Damon to a $10 million a year contract, might not be best man to ask either. It turns out that Damon is a good lead-off hitter and he can catch the ball, which is important in a big stadium like the Yankees have. But he has what baseball people call a “glass arm,” which means that he can throw out very few runners. So Damon with his newly shaven face has been relegated to left field and a rookie has taken his job in center field. So George Steinbrenner may provide me with some clues as to why men have whiskers. And he won’t have to pay me $10 million a year.
One final thought goes through this old essayist’s head. Would it be possible to take the whiskers that are cut off and stuff pillows? How about pillows for dolls? If that may be the case, a whole new industry would come into being. I doubt it. So that all I can say about whiskers is that they are completely useless.
E. E. CARR
September 24, 2007
Essay 262
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Kevin’s commentary: You know, I remember reading this one around the time it was written. 2007 was the last full year I was still living at the house in Austin, where of course Pop would send the essays. Once I moved to Northwestern I was no longer on the mailing list (probably since I changed addresses at least once a year) so I had to get the essays in huge batches when I went home. It was trickier to keep up with them, after that, which is partially why this site exists now. There were tons of essays that I missed!
In any event, Pop continues to shave with an electric razor, often under the watchful eye of one Jenny M. She’s very good at making sure Pop gets his beard under control. I’m sure this was a pressing question on all of our reader’s minds.
For my part, I read this essay and wondered about baldness. They say that you’ll go bald if your mom’s dad is bald, yeah? My beard — though not a full one by any stretch, comes in patchy but nominally it is still a bit thicker than Pop’s seems to get when he’s between shaves. Is that a sign that I won’t go quite as bald as he has? Here’s hoping.