“A permanent reminder of a temporary feeling.” As much as I like to think Jimmy Buffet is inanely annoying (no offense to any Parrot Heads out there reading this – we can respectfully agree to disagree), I will concede that he might have a point here.
This is part of the human condition after all: sometimes we make choices and decisions in life that were not our best judgments – in hindsight, of course. Tattoos are no exceptions. I will confess that the first tattoo I got when I was 18 is no longer existent. Gone. Erased. Covered up. And another story for another day. I promise.
I bring up the subject of the cover up because the first gentleman I had the pleasure of interviewing was having an old tattoo covered up while, simultaneously, getting a memorial portrait in honor of his Mom.
While Kevin was a 20 year old student at Clemson University, he had the opportunity to travel to Okinawa, Japan and live there for a month with one of his college buddies who was from Japan originally.
Crazy as it might seem, Kevin said he arrived in Okinawa just in time to take part in a Swedish Beer Festival that happened to be the event du jour. Like many normal, American 20 year old men, Kevin knocked back a few “itty-bitty” individual sized kegs of beer. As is the tendency when one imbibes copious amounts of alcohol, Kevin “got hammered.”
Hammered. Twenty. Traveling in a foreign county. Embracing the spirit of youth and adventure. Short story long, Kevin looks down an alley, sees a sign that reads “Tat2” and decides he is going to commemorate this event in his life with a tattoo.
He enters the tucked-away-in-an-Okinawa-alley tattoo parlor, complete with red clay and dirt floors, to get his first tattoo. After standing in line behind about eight Marines who were getting inked, it was finally Kevin’s turn.
Anyone living in the SC Upstate understands the devotion and loyalty to either Clemson or USC. Kevin was a tried and true CU Tiger, so he pulled out his school identification. At the time, Clemson was represented by a symbol that looked like a C and U together with an orange flame in the center. This was Kevin’s choice for his tattoo.
Talking with Kevin, I don’t get the impression that he regrets having something Clemson related tattooed on his body. One can casually observe that he wears his Clemson University collegiate ring proudly upon his right ring finger. The problem with his tattoo had more to do with youth and carelessness.
Admittedly, Kevin was not only intoxicated when he got his first tattoo; he was also badly sunburned. Because of the sunburn, his skin did not cooperate in retaining the tattoo ink. The dye simply bled out. The tattoo artist, according to Kevin, did a less than stellar job on the Clemson piece. And the next day, Kevin and his buddy spent the day in the sun and the ocean.
He violated every cardinal rule of tattoo aftercare and, as a result, always felt like his tattoo looked like crap. Because the tattoo was on his right shoulder blade area, it was easier to forget it was there. “Out of sight; out of mind,” said Kevin. However, for the last 20 years, in the back of his mind, Kevin always thought “Man, I wish I had something that when people look at it they’re just like ‘Wow! That’s awesome.’”
Twenty years later, May 25, 2012, Kevin finds himself at Amber Island Tattoo to have his old tattoo covered up and to have a new custom tattoo portrait indelibly inked in memory of his Mom. He is nervous. Second guessing his choices.
His idea for the cover up part of the tattoo is a rose, but Kevin is worried that a rose will be perceived as feminine – calling his masculinity into question. When he tells me why he has chosen a rose, I assure him that I don’t find the choice or idea the least bit feminine.
Roses were his mom’s favorite flowers. Each year for Mother’s Day, Kevin would give his mom a new variety of rose bush – each of which she planted to create an incredibly beautiful hedge in the yard of the home she shared with her husband of 58 years.
When deciding on the photograph he wanted Moto to use as the inspiration for the portrait of his Mom, Kevin chose one of her in her younger years, when Kevin was a twelve year old boy. As a Christian, Kevin believes that when a person dies and goes to heaven, they do so in a young body. Kevin also wanted a portrait of his Mom the way he remembers her most – young, vivacious and filled with life and love.
Kevin’s mom, Mary, was 69 years young when she passed. The cause of her death remains unknown because the family declined to have an autopsy performed. Her death was completely unexpected. Mary had not been ill, so there was no hint or warning.
Kevin’s parents woke up early the way they had every morning. While his dad, Gene, stayed upstairs to shower and get dressed, Mary went downstairs to fix herself some peanut butter crackers and a Diet Coke, after which she would curl up on the end of the couch and turn on the television. And that’s what she did. She made some peanut butter crackers, got a Diet Coke, sat down on the corner of the couch, pulled a blanket up and went to sleep.
Gene came downstairs, and looking over to see his wife, snuggled under a blanket and asleep on the couch, made a pot of coffee, poured himself a cup and sat down in his recliner directly across from her. He looked at her. Said her name. And realized she was gone. She sat there, went to sleep and never woke up.
Friday, March 26, 2010. 6:30 in the morning. Kevin will never forget that day. And though he is thankful for the way his Mom died, that it was peaceful for her and without any tragic long, drawn out suffering, it was still “very, very, very traumatic.” That dreaded phone call at 6am can change life in an instant. Kevin says it was unbelievable.
Moto completed the rose cover-up on Friday. The next step for Kevin will be the memorial portrait in honor of his Mom.
Beautifully written!
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