Mike Rowe Instagram – Back in 1984, most of my friends had a porno mustache. I could have grown one myself, I guess, but it wasn’t really my thing. That’s not to say I wasn’t guilty of other dubious fashion statements. Here, for instance, I’m dressed like a black-jack dealer on a break from my duties at The Moulin Rouge. And speaking of rouge, yes, I’m wearing some. As are my old friends, Pat Paul, (porno-stash to my left) and his brother Mike Paul, (porno-stash to his left) and Michael Gellert, (porno-stash to my right.) We were a barbershop quartet called Tyson Street. I won’t even try to explain why four unapologetically virile, masculine men would dress from time to time in matching outfits and slather on pancake and rouge to compete with other male foursomes in elaborate singing contests. But we did, and it was a hell of a lot of fun. This photo was taken after a competition in Pennsylvania where we came in 17th. Funny, I remember thinking at the time that we had a shot at winning. When they announced that we came in 17th, I remember laughing with my mustachioed friends. I miss the days when we could harmonize, not on the stage or in matching outfits, but in a stairwell, or on a street corner, or in a restaurant, where unsuspecting diners were delighted (were they?) to hear us ring out an old chestnut. Or better yet, on a sailboat anchored somewhere in the Chesapeake, where innocent passersby weren’t subjected to the sounds of a quartet fueled by a cooler full of beer. There are friendships, and there are friendships held together with beer and close harmony. Those friendships are the best. Mike Gellert turns 70 today. I wish to take this opportunity to acknowledge his dotage. I’m struggling to believe how my old friend can be 70 years old. As always, I’m still nine years younger, but still don’t they go by in a blink? I’m sitting here with my 91-year-old dad this morning, who is doing better every day since his heart attack last week and wondering how quickly the next 30 years will go, if I’m lucky enough to have them. Wish me well, and him, a hell of a happy birthday.