The "Tattoo Man" Story

It was an ordinary day. My wife and I had just found out that our youngest son, Tad, had a tattoo. One of his own designs on his arm. We weren't too happy about it. "How long have you had that?" I questioned him. "Not long" was the response. Now Tad was 18 at the time and a fantastic son. Loved sports, did good in school, and was planning to go to Antonelli School of Photography. "Where did you get it done?" I wanted to know. "Dad, Steve L. did it at his place, Transcending Flesh" he said. Steve was a student of mine 5 or 6 years prior in photography and graphic arts. A very good student of the arts and extremely talented. "Well, no more while you're living here!" I warned him. "OK," he told me. A few months later we found out he had done it again. We were on summer vacation with friends and he took his shirt off to go water skiing and there it was on his back. Some kind of oriental symbol. I have no idea what it was. As a matter of fact, that week we visited our minister from church who had a cottage at the bay and her husband, after seeing the tattoo, told him he thought it meant "dumb s**t". Here we go again. "No more of those or you can't drive the car anymore!" "OK,Dad." Well, it was off to photography school in the fall and we only got to see him about once a month. He started to wear long sleeved shirts and no shorts whenever we would visit him at school. At Thanksgiving it struck again. His leg! Most of it! OK, anymore and you pay for your own schooling," I warned him this time. Now, he still had a room at our house and was still driving my car. Do YOU think I really meant it? It wasn't long before another one appeared. I didn't say a word. No sense wasting my breath. I was starting to realize he was expressing himself differently that I did. Hey, he was a good kid and we loved him anyway. As the years went by he had more elaborate and intricate tattoos. Steve was getting more skilled also with his talents. Tad never got a tattoo that couldn't be covered with his clothing. It did make it harder for him to vacation with us since he could no longer be out in the sun, because the sun would fade and discolor his palette (his body). His only problem is that he enjoys hockey, whether it be street, roller or ice, and at times he loses a layer or so of his skin due to falls and collisions. This tends to ruin his artwork, but it usually can be repaired. He even has me convinced I need a tattoo. As soon as I find a neat beach umbrella with a lounge chair under it by a palm tree, I may make a visit with him. A little over a year ago my Father died. Tad carries his name (Paul) and was extremely close to him. I made a collage of photos for display at the funeral and one of the photos featured Dad in his army uniform. Dad was a WWII veteran. Tad asked for a copy of the picture. I should have put 2 and 2 together, but I wasn't a math teacher. One day he showed us his arm. From wrist to elbow on the inside of his arm was a spectacular image of Dad in his uniform with initials and date of birth and death. Other war images added to the design. Very touching! Remember, this isn't something that comes off. My wife and I admired it and then my wife said, "where will you put Dad and I when we die?" Tad said "Oh, I'm saving a spot for both of you." "Hey Tad, make sure it isn't on your butt!" It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.