My grandfather was called “Red” by his peers, as was his father. Both had red hair. Though I was spared the color moniker, I bear the ruddy background in the banner that is my beard. No pennant can be displayed more proudly than one worn on the bearers face. Many compliments come with a fully realized covering of whiskers. There is one occasion however, that causes the most attention to my daily appearance, Saint Patrick’s Day. The day we celebrate the lack of serpents on an island on the far side of an ocean by drinking copious amounts of a beverage that most of us won’t admit we don’t like. I can chew on a Guinness about once a year, so I choose to do so on the same day all other cider drinkers prove that they too are men.

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