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Summit Up

Garth In Paradise

Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that nobody recognizes anymore, just because of a few whiskers.

It’s amazing. You think people know you. Then, just because you let the fur grow out a little, you become this whole other person. Or so it would seem.

As is our custom most winters, we let the razor rest. This is not without consequences, for, although the hair in our northernmost reaches is thinning faster than a hemophiliac’s blood on a two-martini lunch, the facial follicles are still going full-steam.

So, after two months of unchecked growth, we’re hearing comparisons that range from Jeremaiah Johnson to American Taliban recruit John Walker Lindh. (And these, despite our lipstick, halter top and three-inch heels.)

But, we only hear these comments after people recognize us – and this takes some prodding. No longer does a friendly wave across the restaurant cut it. We can’t simply say hi in passing at the post office and walk on. We have to stare intently into these supposed acquaintances’ faces, do a model’s pirouette and sometimes part our beard and moustache so they can see the skin underneath. We fully expect to have to show someone ID here pretty soon (we’re guessing our parents will require this on our next visit).

The good thing about it, and the reason we write to share this with our good readers, is we think we’ve found the answer for all of you looking to be left alone.

Had a bad day at work and don’t feel like talking to anybody? Owe people money, but don’t feel like skipping town to avoid paying? Run through all the dating options in town and need some advice on how to work your way around again, but not with the reputation you accumulated on the first go-round?

Grow a beard, as big as you can, and as thick as you can.

“My boss won’t let me,” some of you will say. Our advice – and this goes for the ladies who have trouble growing one in the first place – is just get a fake one. You know, one of those Santa get-ups or something you can throw on as you walk out the door and take off when you get to work.

In our wildest dreams, it would be a brand new beautiful world in which everyone is sporting a big muffy coif from their chin. Think about it: None of us would recognize anyone, and we’d all have to get to know each other all over again.

And, none of us would need napkins anymore.


Does anybody else out there have an irrational fear of rocks flying through your open window while you’re driving, momentarily blinding you and causing you to crash through a guardrail and into the lake?

Call us neurotic, but we do. This doesn’t stop us from driving with the windows down, of course, but it does keep our white-knuckle grip fixed on the steering wheel and wincing everytime we hear a plink, crack or smack on the front end of the Summit Up Mobile.

No point here. Just wanted to see if there was enough of us for a 12-step program or a support group. Send your abnormal phobia info to us a summitup@, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just tell us we’re following too closely on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.

We’re out putting

Stevie Wonder beads in our beard …

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