The first bearded man in my life was Mr. Cookies.
He was neither the least famous bearded cousin of Ronald McDonald and the Hamburglar nor the older brother of the Gingerbread man.
[Gingy, the cute and valiant Gingerbread man of the Shrek series
No close relation with Mr. Cookies.
Well, at least not as far as I know. One never knows]
He was the bearded neighbor living on the first floor of my apartment building when I was a child. A quiet and peaceful man a little bit overweight, probably in his forties, married with a blond enchanting nice woman, he was always kind, smiling and fun to talk to.
Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life’s about creating yourself.
George Bernard Shaw [1856-1950]
I have never been religious, not even as a child, but Mr. Cookies - this was his real last name, only translated into Italian, of course - was to me the closest thing to Santa Claus, that I had ever seen in real life so far. And probably also afterward.
So a bearded man was for me so far someone somehow friendly and helpful and such, but for sure not attractive or sexy. And not only because as a child I had not yet very clear in my mind what sex appeal or sexiness should be.
Then it was the turn of Candy Candy, of course.