The Case of the Missing Moustache

Teddy always had a sharp little hairline 1940’s style mustache.

My father, his Pal for 40 years, never saw him without it.

They worked together, too, at the same company on West 13th Street for 30 years, which is unheard of these days.

“Hey Al, back-up my good buddy Teddy over there with another cold one.

The poor guys goin dry.”

“  Thanks George, I wont forget it.”

“  You better not Mr. Moustache.”

 “  Errrrrahhhhh  … Yea, my wife’s been after me since the year of the flood to shave it off. ''

“  Don’t do it Teddy!  It makes you look like a Movie Star.”

“ Here’s to your health Georgie.’’

Teddy was a  ” West Sider “ born raised in Hell's Kitchen and then moved further uptown as years went along. 

When the call came that Teddy has passed, my father went to pay his last respects and was shocked when he didn't recognize his old pal lying there in Riverside Memorial Chapel on West 76th

His mustache was gone.

He went to the wife. “ What happened to Teddy’s Moustache?  I don't know him, that way? 

"  The Mortician made a mistake."  She grumbled.

The next day, still disturbed by the unrecognizable appearance of his loyal comrade, it occurred to him that Teddy would often remark that his wife never liked his mustache and wanted him to shave it off - but he never did.

He liked his mustache!  It was his personality and uniqueness.  Teddy was his mustache and his mustache was Teddy.

So my Father’s friend went to his final reward without his most distinguishing feature. Call me crazy, but somehow I can't help thinking it was more than just an accident.

Poor Teddy.

Michael Domino