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Published: November 3rd 2011
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I have a few tattoos. Three to be exact. But one is sorta big and attracts some attention. I enjoy the attention because I’m proud of it and what it means to me. Always enjoy explaining them to people. So, of course when Laura asked me about it I was happy to explain and have her then explain to her mother in Italian. Of course she was talking about the big one but I always refer people back to the small one on the inside of my wrist. I explained that the day my Dad dropped me off for college he and my mom wrote me a small card. I love my mom’s version of the story now in hindsight. She says that she bought the card and signed it and in doing so made sure she gave Dad enough room to write a small message and his patented heart with a line through it and then Dad. Instead he took up the entire left side of the card that was completely empty prior to his message.
The message of course is the best part of the card and I will do my best to paraphrase as the card has
since been lost. He told me to never give up on my dreams and that people will tell me to give up on them because they are stupid and unrealistic and impossible. He said those are the people that need my dreams the most and they have given up on their own dreams and in turn have spent the rest of their lives trying to cause similar torment to those who are still dreaming. Much more poetic than these words but you get the idea. But my tattoo isn’t any of that (if it was that part I wouldn’t have to paraphrase). But it was how he ended the message that was so simple but yet complex and life changing and monumental. These three words changed my life and have motivated at least two other people to do crazy things1.
DREAM. DO. LOVE.
It was so perfect coming from him because it was so obvious that it came from a man who had been in the ad industry for 25+ years. But of course it was so much more than a corny slogan for a travel agency. It would be my slogan for life and how I would find the courage to do things people told me where unreasonable. Truth be told that card did not have a profound impact on me on the day I received it. There were far more important issues at hand, like moving a TV and PlayStation into a dorm room. Of course the sad story goes that within a year I would lose a father and need his words more than ever. Truth be told again, I had completely forgotten about the card until the Friday before my scheduled Saturday tattoo appointment. I wanted a tattoo but hadn’t come up with a design I was in love with. But the night before my appointment I went through a chest of letters. I found the letter and the three words I would eventually put on my wrist, forever.
Then I moved on to my second tattoo. It is the same tattoo that I have set as my profile picture on this very website. It was an idea that Bethany had if she were to get a tattoo. It was simply the word LIFE. Of course this word means something completely different to every single person who looks at it. This could change from time to time and it was placed on my arm with the complete intention of me viewing the word and its eternal placement on my arm differently at some point. I was riding my bike near Beaver Lake one day when I thought that a car or truck could change the radio or throw in a CD at the wrong time and go barreling into me. And I thought about the things that I would regret not doing before my untimely death. And at that moment, getting a tattoo of the word LIFE was one thing I would regret being buried without. I wanted that silly tattoo at that moment and what else should deter me from getting it? Social norms? People’s perception? A future job? Regretting it later? Which regret would I regret more? Not doing it or doing it? I quickly settled on the regret of not doing it would far outweigh the possible regret of doing it in 30 years (if I’m lucky enough to live past 54). Then if I am 70 and my flabby tricep has the word LIFE on it wouldn’t that be even more symbolic of life? Won’t I be happy that I did something that I wanted to do in that moment and future regret didn’t stop me? Won’t I feel empowered by that notion?
If you read the footnote to the early mention of my friend and his girlfriend in Chicago then you will be familiar whom I was with in Chicago when I finally decided the tattoo was going to happen. Of course, since he didn’t have any tattoos or know anyone with any tattoos we went to the next best thing: my iPhone. We searched tattoo parlors near his house and found Mars Hills Tattoos. This quickly brought a weird but yet intuitive feeling. The one and only Rob Bell has a church in the Chicago area named Mars Hill. Nothing besides the coincident made me feel like this was the place to get some ink. Arriving we found a fully tattooed bearded man chasing a kid around with a hand full of water balloons. He was soaked from head to toe. This soaking wet man would later give me tattoo number two. To make the story even better, his piercer was from Fayetteville and we were almost certain we played high school football against one another (again we are still in Chicago). While receiving the tattoo we talked a little about life. He told me his story of growing up in a fundamentalist household and attending Bob Jones University. You know the Bob Jones University that filed a lawsuit against the IRS in 1971 because its segregation policy was keeping them from reaping federal tax exemptions. The same Bob Jones University that did away with its strict non inter-racial dating policy, way back in 2000. He was in one of the mandatory chapel sessions when he felt something tell him to get up and walk away. He said that in that moment he realized that those people surrounding him were worshiping “Hitler’s God.” His outlook on LIFE changed forever.
Finally I got to the tattoo she had originally asked about. It was a letter that Dad had written me for the father/son retreat that we went on during the summer between junior and senior year in high school. During the retreat the sons were told to write a letter to their dads and visa versa. Less than two years ago that letter would instantly be turned into my most cherished possession.
As part of my au pair duties I have been asked to teach David a few new words everyday. Since it was Halloween I careful selected the three following words: spooky, disguise and tombstone. All relatively difficult but he was able to grasp them quite easily. But it was the connection he made with the last one that I will never forget. I was explaining why we mark graves and why we want to remember where we buried our loved ones. He was struggling to understand why we would want to go see them even if they were buried in the ground. I told him that it’s nice to go and say hello every-once-in-a-while and the tombstone helps us know whom each grave belongs to. He suddenly fell silent (a very rare occurrence for this rambunctious 6 year old), then looked up at me and said, “Is your Dad’s name on a tombstone, do you like to go say hello?”
Apparently Laura’s mom wasn’t the only one listening to the Italian translation of my tattoo stories.
jake
1A friend would later explain to me that those three words gave him the courage to pick up his life and move to Ireland. It was more of the last word but it was a dream and he wasn’t going to leave it at a dream. Later that Irish girl he left America for would take a similar leap of faith by moving to Chicago.
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Mom
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What a beautiful story, my Jake. I love you more than life itself.