from "Daddy" to "Marilyn"

Today was just one of those days that i can't say "good-night" to, until i recap.

This morning, before i even went to work, i had a FULL day; none of which will pertain to this post....but note-worthy in that i had pretty much had a great day by noon. Little did i know the rest of the day would be a doozy.

Before noon: exercised with Wii, Violin lesson with T, drove 3 young'uns to nursing home field trip, served hot lunch at t's school, nap, shower, work.

Badda Bing, Badda Boom: full day, right? Wrong!

THEN...right after i arrived to work, my first appointment came early and i had to hit the ground running. She was a former student; one of the best I had from "Alcatraz". She entrusted my newbie skills to a sentimental cross, which was commemorating the loss of her father. She had the design ready to go...so i gave her a good deal. We were both happy with how it turned out.

The rest of the day was spent working on various things until the next, and last, fella came in. He came right up to me and said he wanted a tattoo that said "Marilyn" with some dates. He was kinda scruffy and not exactly pleasant in the olfactory department...but he had an itch and was cool with letting an apprentice scratch it.

He was a stocky little dude; I pretty much towered over him. From his clothes, boots and hands, i gathered that he was hard-working; to the point of wearing out the deoderant he may or may not have worn at some point today. He had a few home-made tats, which can typically cause one to make certain assumptions about his life experiences. Based on a brief conversation, involving some pretty creative grammatical slaughtering, I could gather that he probably hadn't been too interested in school. And i won't even go into the dental hygene....or lack thereof.

These were all obvious details that most people see about this guy. All us assholes judging a book by a cover.

In this shop, where this guy felt comfortable to be himself, I got to learn a little more. It turns out that the name he wanted was his mothers name. The dates were her birthday and the day she died. He described a yellow rose for her, the name and the dates...and said he'd been thinking about getting a tattoo since he had been to her funeral...2 months ago. She was buried states away and, since he couldn't visit her headstone in some depressing cemetary far from here, he wanted this tattoo to see everyday.

During the next few hours, I learned more about this guy...and his relationship to his mom. She had left him when he was a kid. As he told me the story, he revisited the pain that caused (and likely still does) as a young boy, but told me how he understood the circumstances in which she left. He later ran away to be with her and, after a turmultuous reunion, he spent his teenage years making up for lost time. He said they were best friends.

Never mind that this guy called his "significant other" his "Old Lady"....and he asked me what my "Old Man" thought about my tattooing. (Santa? Father Time? Who's my Old Man?) He also said things like "I ain't trippin" and called me "Dude". I could look past all that and see the consideration in his forewarned "I'm gonna sweat....and its gonna stink." As crude as that is, i think it was his way of giving me a heads up (noses up) and being considerate.

I don't know; maybe being a mom to a son has made me all sappy. Maybe i've huffed too many B.O fumes and am not thinking straight...but i found it endearing that even this "unsavory" fella missed his mama. His eyes watered when he talked about remembering the sound of her laugh, how he dreamed about her recently....and how he doesn't remember the funeral.

I asked him if she would like the tattoo and he said "Hell, yeah."
We tattooed it on his chest, over his heart.