Father’s Day has a personal (and maybe a little peculiar) meaning for our Jim Gaffigan:
It’s Father’s Day, and I am a father. But I would like to acknowledge the fact that I owe most of the credit for who I am today elsewhere. I would like to express this gratitude and appreciation in the form of a love letter.
Dear my beard,
I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. I realize I don’t often acknowledge all you do for me. Well, I never do. (You are facial hair, after all.)
But when you’re not around, beard, I really miss you. Everyone misses you. My kids have said, “Where is your beard? You look scary without it.”
Without a beard my head looks like a marshmallow wearing a wig.
Not only do you make me look less scary, you somehow make me look thin! I call you my fat shield. Like magic, you cover my double … all right, triple chin, and give my round … all right, blob-like face definition.
You are the only accessory a man could need. A simple change into a flannel shirt, and I’m an outdoorsy lumberjack! When I wear red, I’m a generous, jolly gift-giver! With a top hat, I’m a patriotic Uncle Sam!
Beard, you keep me warm in the winter, and remind me it’s too hot outside during the summer. Heck, you even catch food for me when I eat sloppily, which is often … all right, all the time.
Beard, you understand no sane man enjoys shaving. You understand our superstitions, and our love of history. Some days you feel like my only friend.
So, my beard, I would like to express my love and appreciation to you this Father’s Day and say, I couldn’t have done it without you.
I love you.
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