Over my twenty-some years of walking like a drunken sailor, my odd gait has attracted the attention of many children. (Adults notice it, too, but they make amusing — and frequently unsuccessful — efforts to stare tactfully. Helpful tip: either stare or be tactful.) Since I’m used to collecting stares like a good-looking cliche at a dime novel authors convention, I’m not bothered by the gazes of curious children; however, I am always interested to hear the child’s reaction after I pass by. And that reaction is typically quite audible.

Children have a loud voice, set somewhere between “fire alarm” and “Don King,” that is reserved for the most embarrassing public questions and observations; my favorite personal experience with this voice occurred several years ago.

I was walking down an aisle in the local grocery store, and I walked past a woman and her young — perhaps 3 or 4 years old — daughter. The daughter gave me the usual you-ain’t-right gaze as I approached, but she said nothing as I passed. But when I reached the end of the aisle, to my amusement, I heard her voice ring out loud and clear: “Mama! That man is walkin’ so funny!”

Also several years ago, but not because of my gait, I started letting my goatee grow. I don’t remember my reason for allowing my urban chin sprawl, or if I even had a reason; I just know that it has embraced the freedom I’ve given it, and it is now just over seven inches long. So, thanks to both its length and its eye-catching reddish color, my chinmuff has become a bit of a conversation piece. Still, my gait is an aberration that is of more interest to curious children.

Or so I thought.

Just the other day, I was walking through my local Meijer. I walked past a father and his three kids; two of the kids were young enough to ride in the cart, but one little boy — perhaps four or five years old — was walking. He kept his eyes on me as we passed, and as usual, I kept my ears open in case he had an amusing comment to make. And he did … but not on the usual topic. As I continued down the aisle, I heard the little boy inform his father, “That man has a big beard!”

So now my goatee is more than just chinsulation; it’s chaff.