The Brevity of Death Part 3

Part three of "The Brevity of Death". So this morning when I got up and got on social media to see what's going on in my world, my phone blew up with loads of ads for dating apps for seniors. So I'm sitting there thinking... going on a date is the very last thing I have any interest in right now... I'd just as soon eat a raw frog still kicking. Not to mention it's way too soon. I mean... nobody has had to tell me that taking a date to my wife's funeral would be in very bad taste. But what offended me the most is, what in the name of John Wayne's butt makes them think I'm a senior?!!!

The Brevity of Death Part 4

"The Brevity of Death" part four: (It's a long one...) I have come to the conclusion that the cost of a funeral is nothing more than extortion. It's a polite, soft-spoken form of extortion, but make no mistake, it is extortion nonetheless. They know you have no other choice than to pay for it, and it's not exactly like you're going to shop around for the lowest bidder. Furthermore, they add all kinds of extra expenses to the bill. Things you would never even dream of. For example, it doesn't make any difference if your dearly departed was only three and a half feet tall, if they were/are beyond a certain width, they add an extra charge. Oh! And they don't measure shoulder-to-shoulder... they measure hand-to-hand, with their hands out by their sides. My question is, have you ever seen anyone placed in a casket, posed with their hands down by their sides?!! H-E -Double-Hockey-Sticks No!! They always cross their hands somewhere around their mid-section. So this hand-to-hand crap is total BS! I say, just cut the top and the bottom off the casket, lay your loved-one in there sideways, and call it good! Can I get an Amen?!! Then attach the ends back together and re-sell it to the next sucker that comes along! Although, I don't think I could do that in good conscience... not to another grieving family, who is also being extorted... But that's not all! They also have ways of scamming you on the expense of embalming, and sewing their lips together. I guess they're worried that the dearly departed is still capable of hocking up a big ol' loogy and spitting it on someone... particularly someone they may not have liked, while they were still among the living. Anyway, they also charge you for a cheesy-ass hair and make-up job as well (I can say "ass" because it's in the Bible). I suppose they would also charge extra to do their nails (probably in some stupid florescent color only a 5-year old would wear, but fortunately, Traci had recently had her nails done, not long before she passed. If the departed doesn't need their nails done, they tack on plenty of other charges to make up the difference. For instance, if we would have had Traci buried the same week she passed, we could have skipped the cost of embalming, but we would still have to pay for their cheesy-ass hair and make-up job, I have no doubt Traci would have absolutely loathed and abhorred. Well, we had to wait for two weeks because we have people coming in from all over the country. So, I asked the guy, if they could skip the embalming and just keep her refrigerated for an extra week? To that the guy said there was just no way possible, because her body would begin emitting odors (I won't describe). ~~~ Fast-forward to a couple of days ago, and I was talking to a lady whose husband passed a few years back. She told me her husband had already pre-planned his funeral (and I apologize if you find what follows as gross or upsets you in any way), but she had also had to wait a couple of weeks. Anyway, she said that his wishes had been to have his body frozen and buried naked (it takes all types). Anyway, he had a closed-casket service, and later, after everyone had left his gravesite but her, they asked her if she would like to view his body, one last time? And she told them that she would. So they opened up the casket and she said there was no odor and that he looked totally perfect. In fact, possibly even better than perfect. She said he just looked just like he was asleep, due to the fact he had not been embalmed, so he still had his natural color, they had not sewn his lips together, or given him a cheesy-ass hairdo, or make-up job. She also told me he was just beginning to thaw, and that as he did so, the ice began to seep out of his pores. She said it was a really gorgeous, sunny day, and as the sun reflected off of his body, it made him look as if he was covered in a very fine glitter. She told me that he was absolutely beautiful! So beautiful in fact, that is exactly what she wants to happen when she passes away. At this point, my first thought was, "Wow! How cool is that?!!". But my second thought was (and I even told her as much...), "That monkey-brained ass (again, in the Bible) at the funeral home, never even mentioned any of this as an option, as he laid out his estimated plans for extortion! In fact, Traci had always told me that as far as a casket, or any of the other particulars associated with her funeral, to just do whatever was the absolute cheapest. However, this also made me think... I'd bet Traci would love it if we all sprinkled her with a pinch of glitter as we walk by her in her used casket! Anyway, continuing on... So, this monkey- bra... well, you get the picture, so I'll just refer to him as "MBA" for short... At any rate, when we go back to the casket showroom, I know I told him Traci's wishes at least twice, if not three times. Well, he starts off with his third most expensive model. Keep in mind, we had laid my father-in-law to rest several years ago in a plywood box covered in a nice fabric. It didn't look hideous by any means, but that didn't change the fact it was what it was. My point is, I wasn't completely ignorant of what the "absolute cheapest" model might be... So I repeated, "No, that's not what we want. We literally want the cheapest thing you got". So then he drops down a level, and then another. Finally, after we went through this rigamarole three or four more times, the guy says, "Well, the only thing I have that's gonna be any cheaper, is a plywood box covered in a nice fabric". When we finally got down to that model, I said, "Yes! That's what we want". I mean... It's not like the departed are going to be down there driving around in some sort of casket parade, showing off like it's an antique car show or something. So then, as we're walking out of the casket showroom, MBA kind of casually points up at this pretty nice looking solid wood casket and says, "You know, I'll have to check with the owner first, but I might be able to get you a good deal on this casket right here." I say, "Oh yeah?" And then he says, "Yeah, we've been 'using' it for a while now and he's been wanting to get rid of it and swap it out for a newer model." I had no idea caskets actually go out of style... I mean, who knew?!! At any rate, I say to MBA, "So what you're saying is, you want to sell me a USED casket?!!" And he says, "Oh no! It's not used!..." and proceeds to explain to me how it's still new. Anyway, he goes back to speak to the owner, just like a car salesman has to go back to speak to the sales manager, and comes back and tells us that it's actually cheaper than the plywood model covered in a nice fabric, AND, wouldn't you know it! It just happens to be one of the wider models, so it will accommodate Traci's broad-ish Carlile shoulders, with her hands laid out by her sides. Of course then he tries to sell us a vault to bury the casket in, and the list just goes on. If you want to know a little more, you can reference my previous "used casket" story. ~~~~ You know, I had to bury my favorite horse a few weeks ago and all we did was just dig a hole, then put her in it, pour a couple of bags of lime on her, and then refill the hole. Of course I would never dream of doing that to my lovely little wife, but I can't deny sometimes wishing things were still that simple.

This will more than likely be my last "Brevity of Death" episode. My heart is so very broken that despite my rather extensive vocabulary, I can't even begin to describe how much it hurts. All I have really wanted to do for the past couple of weeks, is to crawl up in my bed and get into the fetal position and cry and cry. But I just can't. With the Lord's help, I have to find the will to survive this. There has been a funeral to plan and finances to figure out and people to see and literally hundreds of phone calls to make and answer. And to be very clear, I am NOT complaining. It's quite the opposite. I am genuinely so very thankful for all of the calls and visits and food and cards and on and on!

They have truly kept me from falling into a dark place I can't afford to go to. So please keep the calls coming. They are more uplifting to me than you'll ever know. Having said all of that, I have also tried to survive by finding as much humor as I possibly can in all of this, because I know that's what Traci would have wanted me to do. And I truly hope, that anyone who has read these little stories, has maybe found a little humor and comfort too.

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The Brevity of Death (Episode 5, Part 1)

Okay, back in the saddle, with "The Brevity of Death": Episode Five ~~~~~ My wife was late to her own funeral! You hear this expression used often... "So and so would even be late to their own funeral". But for those of you who were actually there, you know that my beautiful little wife was in fact, late to her own funeral! There are some who consider my little stories concerning my wife's passing as satire and I suppose they are correct; however, I prefer to think of them as literary caricatures of the truth. Perhaps that's just splitting hairs, but I think you would be very surprised by how much more truth these stories contain than fiction. For example, outside of a few embellishments regarding Traci's preparation and associated charges, how we came to purchase the used casket is pretty near word for word of how that transaction actually came to pass. Having said that, in that episode, I referred to the gentleman (if you can call him that) as "MBA". Again, refer back to the story... From this point forward, however, I will simply refer to him as "DA". I'll allow you to determine what those letters mean. At any rate, as I said, up until now all of my stories have been attempts at comical caricatures, but I am honestly having difficulty finding any humor in this one. But, I will do my best. And I sincerely apologize if anyone finds these posts upsetting or offensive in any way. If you do however, it might be a good idea to just block me from your friends list, because I intend to have a whole lot more of these to come. Also, this episode is a little bit lengthy, but I found a really good stopping point, to break it up before it begins to turn kind of dark, so, I have decided to divide it up into at least two, or possibly three episodes. ~~~ Traci passed away on Sunday, June 21st and I walked into her room only moments after my daughter, April, and I had witnessed medical staff perform, and eventually cease, the brutal act of CPR. Following the truly, visually traumatic event we had just witnessed, I was more than a little shocked by the insensitivity of the nurses who had been left behind, to remove the breathing tube and wires and IV tubes and such. Having said that, I really wanted to be the one to remove Traci's wedding band and engagement ring. But as I was walking into the room, one of the the nurses had just taken them off. I told her that I had really wanted to be the one to remove them... To be fair, her response may have been a bit kinder than I remember, but all I heard was a rather hurriedly and plain "Oh, sorry". So, STRIKE ONE! Then, before they had even finished removing all of the wires and stuff, one of the nurses asked me,

"Do you know what funeral home you want to use?" and the other then chimed in, "Yeah, do you know which one?". Oh sure! Like THAT was at the forefront of my mind at that exact moment... Something that wouldn't have even made the short-list for at least another half-hour, if even then! STRIKES TWO AND THREE! I absolutely promise you, by this point it took every single fiber of my being, but I somehow mustered up the strength to refrain from jumping across that gurney, and slam dunking both of the old gals' heads into the sink, like Michael Jordan at the peak of his prime! Fortunately, self-control got the better of me and all I said was, "I have no idea!" I mean, it had just been less than a couple of minutes, since they had ceased CPR. Just as a side note, my time-line may be a bit off, due to the short-circuiting of my brain at the time... So there was a big part of me, I'm sure many of you have experienced, where I really kind of expected Traci's eyes to open wide and for her to start gasping for air. But sadly, even though you hope against hope, that just doesn't happen. However, after a few moments passed and the nurses finished their task of removing all of the tubes, wires, etc., the funniest thing happened. I looked down at Traci and she had the cutest little grin on her face. And as morbid as it might seem to some of you, I choose to believe, that was Traci's silly little way of saying to me... "GOTCHA!!!" It was truly a heartwarming moment and THAT was how I wanted to remember my beautiful little wife! Not in some casket, done up in such a way that I might have had a hard time even recognizing her. So, I made the choice right then and there, that I was not going view her body again before she was laid to rest. I want to remember and cherish that little moment of seeing her, with that cute little grin. ~~~ To Be Continued:

 

The Brevity of Death (Episode

(Episode 5, Part 2)

"The Brevity of Death" (Episode 5 part 2) Well, I tried to create a fb group for my BOD posts, but it was impossible to deal with, so I reckon I'll just have to stick with posting them here until I can get a blog or something going somewhere else. Maybe even something that's monetized... wouldn't that be cool?!! At any rate, here goes... So, my wife was actually late to her own funeral. This was pretty ironic, considering how fast "DA" (short for assumed mnemonic) initially jumped into action after Traci passed away. I mean, literally within just a few minutes after we notified the hospital which funeral home we had chosen, my phone rang and I heard this rather urgent sounding, squeaky little voice. He quickly told me who he was and who he was with, and was very eager to schedule a meeting, first thing the next morning. I had to have a medical procedure done the next day, so I told him our meeting would have to wait until Tuesday. You would have genuinely thought I forced him to step on a dead lizard barefooted, judging by how put out he sounded when I told him we'd have to wait. However, I really didn't give a shit (Side note: The word "shit" has never been considered a cuss word in our house. Even the girls were allowed to use it when they were little, just not at school or church or sometimes at daycare). Moving on... I had already had to postpone my procedure for a month and I really couldn't afford to postpone it again. After what I'm sure felt like an eternity to DA, we finally met him on Tuesday morning. He was pretty much what I had pictured in my mind's eye... he was older and kind of smallish, with a sad looking patchy beard, that looked like he had been trying to grow since the 8th grade. If you attended Traci's funeral, you got to see DA first-hand, so of course you can form your own opinion of how he looked. Anyway, back to our introductory contact... DA almost seemed kind of pushy over the phone. Like he wanted to lock us into a deal and get us under contract right away, before we got the chance to go shopping around for a far more superior funeral home. And in hindsight, "Two Guys With a Pick-up and Their Aunt Rosie's Funeral Home could have done a better job. But more on that later... As for now, can you just imagine how a phone conversation with one of DA's competitors would have gone?!!! Let's imagine for a moment, I make the call and it goes something like this... ~~~ The phone rings and I hear a rather disinterested sounding woman, with a nasally smoker's voice and a heavy southern accent say, "Hellooo, Stuff and Fluff Funeral Home. This is Marge speaking, how can I help you?" ~~~ Me: "Hello Marge, umm, my name is Clifton Jones and uhhh sniff, sniff... my wife just passed away". ~~~ Marge: In a deadpan tone says, "We're sorry for you loss Mr. Jones." ~~~ Me: "uhhh... sniff, sniff, Thanks, I appreciate that... sniff. Anyway, would you happen to have a solid oak casked that would fit a 5ft 2 in. female?" ~~~ Marge: "Would that be with shoes Mr. Jones, or without?" ~~~ Me: "Hmmm... Well, I hadn't really thought about that... uhhh...well, let's see. I should probably ask my kids, but they just stepped out." ~~~ Marge: "That's okay sir, we know y'all are probably pretty upset right now, so you just take your time, okaaaay?". ~~~ Me: "Ummm...Okay, thanks". In the meantime I start thinking, since she's going to be making a long trip up north, Traci would most likely want something to keep her feet warm on the way. So while I'm waiting for the girls to return I say, "Well, while I'm waiting for my kids to get back, what's the difference in price between shoes and no shoes?" ~~~ Marge: "Well sir, that depends on if we will be providing the shoes, or if you will". ~~~ Me: "Well, ummm... can you give me a breakdown of all of my options?" ~~~ Marge: "Sure Mr. Jones... If you provide the shoes, the cost is $5.95, but that price goes up to $8.95 if you want us to polish or clean the shoes... However, if we were to supply the shoes, then it would be $24.50 for a dressier-type pair of black shoes, which includes knee-high panty hose for an extra $5.00. Or, you can get a pair of plain tan sandals for $22.59 and of course that would also include $5.00 for the knee-high panty hose. Or, instead of the panty hose, you could get a pair of plain white socks for $2.79." ~~~ "Me: "Wow... That's interesting... I had no idea women's footwear could get so complicated inside a casket. ~~~ "Marge: "Yes sir... Of course if you would prefer, we could also just put her in a pair of flip-flops for... I think it's about $5.00, but let me check real quick, just to make sure. No sir, I was off by a little bit. The flip-flops are actually only $4.98. So you would be saving a little if you went that route. Of course all of our options are before taxes, so you would also have to include taxes in there as well. You know Uncle Sam... he has to get his bite out of everything these days. You would think grieving families would have been bitten enough. But I would prefer if you would keep that little comment to yourself. We're not suppose to be too political nowadays." ~~~ Me: "No, I reckon not. Well, what do the dress shoes look like?" ~~~ Marge: "Well Mr. Jones, all of our shoes come from Walmart, so they're all pretty high quality shoes." ~~~ "Me: "So how much is it if we just leave her barefoot?" ~~~ Marge: "Well, if we put her in a dress, as most people normally do, then it's no charge, but if she's in a pair of dress slacks or jeans, then it's $2.00." ~~~ Me: "So how much is the casket by itself then?" ~~~ Marge: "Well Mr. Jones, like I said, the total will depend on which option you choose for footwear of course, but the casket by itself would be $1378.22 plus tax. And like I said, you would have to add the cost of your choice of footwear on top of that." ~~~ Me: "So Marge, let's just say that I decided to put nothing on my wife from the waist down... how much would that cost?" ~~~ Marge: "I'm sorry Mr. Jones, but we don't do that here. But I think Tag & Bag Funeral Home across town may do that. Would you like for me to give them a call real quick and check for you?" ~~~ Me: "No thank you, but I appreciate it though." ~~~ Marge: "You're welcome Mr. Jones. And once again, we're sorry for your loss and you just give us a call if we can be of any further service. Here at Stuff and Fluff Funeral Home, we can actually provide a whole range of different services and we always try to out-bid our competitors, when and where we can. And we'll match any price one of our competitors offers... Is it 'offers', or 'offer'? I never can remember. Just between you and me, English was NOT my best subject in high school Hahaha! Anyway, remember, just as long as you can prove it's the same model number, and if you can also provide a copy of the other funeral home's quote, that's been signed and dated by one of their employees then we can usually match it. Oh, and also the other funeral home has have their logo printed somewhere on the quote, or else it's not valid. And it can be located anywhere in the quote... top, bottom, doesn't matter, just as long as their logo is printed somewhere on there. We've actually had some people come in here with a quote written on a page out of a legal pad with a forged signature, if you can believe that." ~~~ Me: "Oh really?" ~~~ Marge: "Uh huh... I guess having somebody die just makes some people think that gives them the right to be dishonest." ~~~ Me: "That's really hard to believe." ~~~ Marge: "Yeah, you'd be surprised at what some people try to pull off. Anyway, we also try to cut corners any way we can." ~~~ Me: "Oh really now?" ~~~ Marge: "Yes sir, but not in anyway that would affect the quality of service mind you. For example, do you mind if I ask you Mr. Jones, was your wife a very popular woman?" ~~~ Me: "Oh yeah, a lot of people really loved her!" ~~~ Marge: "Well, we MIGHT be able to save you some money by not having an extra attendant for your wife's visitation and funeral services, whereas a lot of our competitors don't even give you a choice. But with your wife being so popular and all, we'd really just have to wait and see by how many people show up. Unfortunately, the fire marshal dictates how many people can be in the building at one time, so Harold, who normally serves as our extra attendant, always starts to get a little antsy when the sanctuary starts to look a little too full for his liking. On the other hand, Dwight sometimes fills in for Harold, and he don't really care how many people are in there. He normally just watches the ball game on his phone during the services anyway, but he nearly always makes sure to turn the sound off. But he's a little young, so sometimes we have to remind him. That doesn't happen very often though, just about once in every blue moon or so. And sometimes the fire marshal will also let us fudge a little on the number of people we have in there too. He really tries to be considerate of grieving families when he can." ~~~ Me: "Okay, thanks. I really need to go now." ~~~ Marge: "I understand. I know this is a busy time for you. So I don't want to keep you too long, You just give us a call if you think Stuff and Fluff can help you in any way. And I'd be happy to answer any further questions you might have, with planning your wife's funeral, okaaay? Just ask for Marge". ~~~ Me: "Okay, thanks Marge." ~~~ Marge: "Okay, Mr. Jones. You have a nice day. Bye now." ~~~ Me: "Yeah, you too.... CLICK!".

Since I have covered most of the story prior to visitation, I will fast-forward to that part of the story... As I had previously mentioned, I did not want to see Traci again after leaving the hospital. So on the evening of Traci's visitation, I hung back near the entrance of the chapel, where Traci's visitation was being held. This actually worked out for the best anyway because I was able to greet people as they came in. DA also stayed back near the entrance and I like to think it wasn't his intention, but I kind of felt like he was spying on me while I was greeting and conversing with all of our family and friends as they arrived. Occasionally I would catch him out of the corner of my eye and every time I got the feeling he was a little too interested in the conversations I was having. Perhaps it was just me, but I won't deny it made me feel a bit uncomfortable either way. Something else I found out about DA is that anytime he and I had a conversation that was unwitnessed, he was always borderline rude, whereas my girls told me that anytime he spoke to them, he was always super nice. I don't know... maybe pretty young girls just naturally have that effect on old men. Or maybe (tongue in cheek) he just genuinely didn't like me, which I find extremely hard to believe, because I know for a fact I have never rubbed anyone the wrong way. (To Be Continued)

The Brevity of Death Part 2

Okay, so here's episode two of "The Brevity of Death"... Did you know, you can buy your dearly departed a used casket? I had no idea, but it's absolutely true! ~~~ In order to clarify how a casket becomes "used"... When someone is going to have an open casket ceremony and then be cremated, they re-use the same casket over and over and just replace the frilly satin liner on the inside. I don't know why they do that... it's not like the dearly departed are going to spill their kool-ade or their beer or whatever. I think it's probably just a scam so they can still claim the casket is new, because the guy swore up and down that the casket was new, but that they had been using it for a while, so the owner was wanting to replace it with a newer model. So he was willing to sell it to us on the cheap. So, in honor of my lovely little wife, who always got super excited over a great bargain, we bought the used coffin and will be burying her in it. And knowing Traci, if there happens to be any lingering remnants of the souls who have previously used this casket, I have no doubt she has already made good friends with them by now, and it truly warms my heart, just knowing she won't be in there alone!

The Brevity of Death Part 1

                                The Brevity of Death Part 1

I reckon you can file this under the brevity of death... I realized last night that for the first time in about 34 years, I can finally leave the toilet seat up.

Tattoos

TATTOOS

          First, to my three loyal fans (and to anyone else who happens to stumble across this blog). I am now signaling the spoiler alert. As you know, I normally travel down the silly path where this blog is concerned; however, for this post I am going to veer away from that path and go down a more serious road. Some might find what I have to say a bit poignant but I sincerely hope that is not the case. In an effort to increase self-awareness, I hope to provide something more evocative because I believe when we pay better attention to what we are doing, we do better.

           To my two lovely daughters (and to anyone else who might flinch while reading the third paragraph). I am well aware that some of the language I use is not strictly "correct". Sometimes the heart feels a type of joy and excitement that cannot be described "correctly" so it must make up its own words and phrases. Why on earth do you think babies take so long to "learn" how to speak our limited language? You better bet your best blue bell-bottom britches that those babies are way smarter than we are and they understand our language perfectly, long before they ever speak it! The thing is, their hearts are so full of joy that they are not going to waste their time, dumbing down their language, just so we can keep up!

          One final word or two before we get started...  I am dedicating this blog entry to my first grade teacher, Mrs. Marilee Holmes, who was the inspiration for this post. It is a little well-known empirical fact, that Mrs. Holmes is the absolutest mostest greatest teacher ever, of all time, in the entire history of the entire universe! Furthermore, I am so very thrilled to report that she is still in the classroom going strong, profoundly influencing our world for the better, through the hearts and minds of the children who are so extraordinarily blessed to have her as their teacher! Between Kindergarten, public school, Stuntman school, Fire school, EMT school, Paramedic School and three tours of duty in college, I figure I have spent a combined total of about 24 years, compiling my educational career. That is quite a long time and given my struggles with dyscalculia, I have had more teachers than I am likely able to realistically count. I will not belabor my point any further but will simply say, without  the slightest hint of hesitation but rather with all of the exuberance I can possibly muster, that Mrs. Holmes was by far, hands down, with second place not even in the same zip code, my mostestest favoritestestest teacher ever, of all time (in the entire history of the entire universe)!!! And THAT, my friends, is truly saying something because I had some of the most amazing cotton pickin' teachers you could ever imagine, while I was attending the University of North Texas! Libby Dorn, Jennifer Middleton and Brenda Sweeten immediately come to mind. No doubt you guys are thinking I'm just laying another one of my silly exaggerations on you, but I firmly believe that there is a very good chance you will totally agree with my assessment, silly or not, once you have read the specific things I have to say about each of these individuals, later in this post.  But for now and for the entirety of this post...  Mrs. Holmes, this one's for you!

   

 

TATTOOS  

          When I was a kid, tattoos were nowhere near as prominent in our society as they are today. Back in those days, the few individuals who had tattoos primarily consisted of crusty old military guys and even that group could be paired down to predominantly former Navy men. It is entirely possible that bikers and hippies also had tattoos but we didn't exactly have an abundance of bikers and hippies in Odessa, Texas back then. I don't recall ever seeing any bikers but my mother and I would occasionally encounter a band or group or herd (or whatever the most current PC descriptor is) of hippies at the grocery store. I was always so mesmerized by them that I never really got a chance to notice if they had any tattoos or not, before my mother caught me staring and gave me one of her U.S. patented, well-placed, underarm sweet meat, bruise inducing pinches! Even now, just thinking about that makes the  hair on the back of my neck stand up! I just couldn't help it... those hippies were by far the wildest looking human beings I had ever seen up to that well-sheltered point in my short life! Whether they had tattoos or not, they were quite noticeably out of place in Odessa back then so everybody in town was staring, not just me! I suppose mother couldn't just go around pinching everyone in the Gibson's Discount Center, but I sure would have liked to have seen her try!

          At any rate... Sailors, bikers and hippies no longer solely hold the franchise on tattoos. Now people from every corner of our society have them! Doctors, lawyers, nurses, preachers, ballplayers, school teachers, grandmothers, mailmen, dog catchers, landscape architects... essentially, if you can name em' they probably got em'. Furthermore, there is not a single solitary square centimeter on the human body that hasn't been covered in tattoo ink and that includes all of the "no-no" places, or as my kids call them... "the party parts". I have also seen where people have tattooed the inside of their mouths, on their tongues, under their eyelids... pretty much anywhere they could fit a tattooing machine I reckon'.  Having said that, the one location I just can't seem to wrap my mind around is the eyeball! It's true! You can Google it! However, I think the craziest thing I have seen was where someone had their infant baby tattooed! I'm thinking they had to have been hippies. Oh yes, they walk among us... I don't want to sound like I've got it in for hippies or anything but THAT is just plain DUMB! I know one thing... I sure would hate to be the parent that has to someday deal with the ramifications of that decision. Can you imagine little Johnny bursting through the back door after school, madder than a wet cat that got into your crazy uncle Elroy's crystal meth?!! ~~~~~ "Little Johnny, what on earth has upset you so?" ~~~~~ "Why did you do this to me?!! I HATE YOU AND I NEVER EVER WANT TO SEE YOU OR TALK TO YOU EVER AGAIN IN MY LIFE!!!" ~~~~~~ "Oh Dear! Little Johnny, please come sit down and have a yogurt and Brussels sprout taco and a warm glass of chicken's milk to calm down, and then you can tell me all about what's bothering you." ~~~~~ "All *sniff, sniff* of the other boys at school *sniff* are making fun of me *sniff-sniff* because I *sniff-sniff* PEE SITTING DOWN!!!....WWWAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAA!" ~~~~~ "Well...um...Little Johnny...um, why do.....um....what makes you think you have to...uh... sit down to pee?" ~~~~~~~ "Well, I always thought the reason you had that 'pee-sign' tattoo put on my bottom, was so I would always remember to sit down to pee!" ~~~~~~ (Sorry, I know I said I was going to be serious this post but I just couldn't help myself... I just had to squirt that one out...) All I can say is, I am so glad my parents had the wisdom to just get me the old "lick and stick" tattoos...

                The reasons people get tattoos are no doubt as vast and varied as the people who get them and it would be pointless to try to compile an exhaustive list; however, as vast and varied as the people and there reasons might be, doesn't change the fact that all tattoos have many things in common. For example, almost all tattoos (in our society) exist because the owners chose to get them. They chose the design and the colors and the location and the artist. No doubt many of those individuals later wished that they had not made that choice but at the time they got them, they did. This kind of leads into my next point, which is all tattoos are permanent. Another commonality is that since tattoos are in the skin, the owners can choose to hide most of them with various articles of clothing. Finally, like pretty much everything else, some tattoos are elaborate and beautiful and tasteful, while others are hideous and vulgar and gross. Some signify hate and anger, while others peace and love. In short, they convey a message. Therefore, it naturally stands to reason that some tattoos contain no message at all, but simply just are.

           I'm going to take a wild shot in the dark here and say that so far, I likely haven't said anything about tattoos that revealed anything new or provided any kind of profound enlightenment, at least not as far as the traditional "ink-in-skin" tattoos are concerned. That is because this post is about tattoos of a different kind. These tattoos are similar to traditional ink tattoos in some ways but in many others, they are very different. For example, these tattoos are like ink tattoos in as much as, they are permanent, perhaps even more so; however, everyone on the planet has some of these tattoos but neither the design, nor the location, nor (in most cases) the artist was chosen. We can't hide these tattoos with clothing either, so everyone sees them, whether we want them to or not. That is because these tattoos are always placed on our hearts and they reflect the work of the artists who placed them there. These artists are the people and events that have profoundly impacted our lives and like ink tattoos, some are very beautiful, while others can be quite gruesome. Also unlike ink tattoos, these possess something of a holographic quality and although we cannot hide them, we ultimately choose which side of the holograph is seen by others. In order to better illustrate this concept, I will share the stories of two dogs I once owned, Rocky and Cooper.

Rocky and Cooper

          Rocky was a big and beautiful German shepherd that came into my life about a year or two after I graduated from high school. The story I got was that while he was still a pup, he had been sent to be trained as an attack/guard dog. For whatever reason, he was pulled out of training about midway through the program and somehow wound up with abusive owners. I would be willing to bet, that is when he acquired his "ugly" tattoo. From what I understand, he eventually became so vicious that he would attack anyone or anything that went near him and was reportedly already scheduled to be euthanized when a very good dog trainer came across him and convinced the powers that be, to let him take Rocky home and work with him for a while. So the trainer took Rocky home and initially, he was as mean as advertised and even tried to attack the trainer on a number of occasions. Through it all, the trainer apparently saw something in Rocky that led him to believe it was not in his true nature to be so aggressive, because he kept at him until eventually, Rocky overcame his angry viciousness and became a gentle, loving and loyal companion. Right about the time Rocky's transformation was complete, the trainer had to make room for some new canine clients so he had to find Rocky a new home. As it turns out, the trainer just so happened to be the older brother of a friend of mine, who knew I loved shepherds and that I had owned a few in the past. So Rocky and I were a pretty good fit. I was blessed to have Rocky for several years and I am happy to say that I never saw the vicious side of his tattoo. I only ever saw the side that displayed his remarkable resilience and noble character.

          Cooper also got his unsightly tattoo when he was a pup, courtesy of his abusive owners. At some point he was rescued but the people who rescued him were unable to keep him. So they took him to a friend of mine who was also unable to keep him but who found Cooper a home with me. I don't remember exactly how old Cooper was when I got him but it was sometime before his first birthday. When I first met him he seemed relatively happy but he would always cower down at first, whenever I would go near him. It was much the same whenever I would call him. He would come up smiling and wagging his tail but as he drew nearer, he would cower down closer and closer to the ground. Even if I had never heard his story, I would have known he had been abused. It was just that painfully obvious to detect in his behavior. I kept Cooper well loved and well fed for 14 years and even after all of that time, he continued to show the side of his tattoo that revealed his inner anxieties.

          It would probably make for a very lengthy discussion but the bottom line is, nobody will ever really know how or why both of these dogs started out with very similar tattoos but for some reason, revealed them in completely different ways.
       
          When I was a small boy, you could have searched the world many times over and would have only come up with a small handful of children who were as eager and excited to start school as I was. I literally couldn't wait! If you've read some of my previous posts, then you know of my hero, my grandmother. In those days she owned her own real estate business but in her very first career, she had been a school teacher. In fact, she began her teaching career in a small country school in a little old one-room school house. Anyway, I was too impatient to wait for Kindergarten so grandmother was all too happy to start me off on the basics. Perhaps that was part of the problem because once I finally began Kindergarten, I seem to remember feeling like I was always waiting for the other kids to catch up. I don't necessarily think I was any smarter than the other kids, it's just that in many cases I had already covered the material. Whatever it was, Kindergarten wound up being a complete, misery laden disaster! I remember going with my mother to meet the teacher. She was about 10 or 15 years older than my mother and she seemed nice enough but honestly, she really didn't impress me much. Somebody can jump in and confirm or correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think Kindergarten was mandatory those days in Texas. In fact, I don't think it was even offered in public schools until a year or two later. At any rate, my Kindergarten "school" was nothing more than the old hag's.... I mean "teacher's" (who in reality was the daughter of Satan) garage, that had been converted into a "classroom". This essentially served as the false-front for the scam she had created to swindle the hard earned money of gullible, unsuspecting parents. Seriously though, I have no idea why but that woman absolutely hated me! And it was through her that I learned all too well, the definition of a bully and what it felt like to be bullied. I am thoroughly convinced that she did not consider her day a success, unless she made me cry at some point during the day. I don't remember the exact number but there were roughly 20 kids in that class. However, I do remember that there was only one member of that class who ever got screamed at (not  yelled at).... who ever got licks, not just once, but several times.... who ever got licks in front of the entire class... who was ever made to stay in from recess every day..... and who ever got their snack (a small cup of milk or juice and a cookie) withheld on most days. And if that wasn't enough, Mrs. Dragon Breath had a cookout at the end of the school year for all of the students and their parents. That is, all except one. She told me that my family and I were not invited because I had been too ugly in class. I know all of this sounds really crazy and I truly wish I was just making it all up... but unfortunately, it's the undeniable truth.

          So my first grade year rolls around and I was still very eager to learn, but now I was really dreading the whole idea of going to school. So when my mother told me it was time to go meet the teacher.... well, let's just say I didn't exactly skip to the car. At any rate, off we go to see Lamar Elementary and meet the new teacher, with me wishing I was in any other car in town at that moment than ours. We pull up to the school and fortunately, it didn't look anything like some old hag's converted garage... it was ginormous! I remember walking to the classroom to meet the teacher and I was behind my mother, looking at the floor and dragging my feet. We get to the classroom door and I am tentatively trying to peak in. I guess I thought if I saw her before she saw me and I didn't like what I saw, then I could run and hide down in Mexico and nobody would be the wiser. All I know for sure is... I will never ever forget the first time I stepped into the classroom of the greatest teacher ever, of all time, in the entire history.....(you get the idea). I felt like I had just stepped into a ray of warm sunshine and every ache, every pain and every sadness was being washed away by that warmth. I could go on and on but I will try to exercise at least a little self control... I don't think I could ever put into words how special first grade was for me. Mrs. Holmes was thoroughly, and in every way,  the complete and total antithesis of everything my Kindergarten teacher had been. To this day, I feel like I am her most favorite student ever, of all time, in the......  But part of the magic of Mrs Holmes is that I have no doubt there are big yellow school bus loads full of her former students, that feel exactly the same way.  Except for the years I went to UNT, it was the only year I attended school that I couldn't wait to get there every morning!

          So even though my Kindergarten hag had used her gruesome talons to scrape out a pretty hideous tattoo, you would never know it because of the many beautiful tattoos Mrs. Holmes gracefully created. Tattoos like "everyone deserves to be treated as if they are special" ~~~~~ "You don't have to yell or scream to get your point across. Speaking with a soft voice and kind warm eyes makes a much bigger impression" ~~~~~ "Being kind and fair to someone will encourage them to do more than bullying will"~~~~~ "Being patient, friendly and nice isn't mandatory but it is the right thing to do"~~~~~ "Holding a grudge is not a requirement"~~~~~ and many, many more.

          We had something of a problem child in our first grade class and if I remember correctly,  her name was Veronica. It may not  have been that often, but it seemed like there were quite a few mornings that Mrs. Holmes sent Veronica to the principal's office. I seem to remember it being one of those very predictable things... Veronica would start acting up and Mrs. Holmes would respond. Then Veronica would keep getting worse and Mrs. Holmes' patience would keep getting thinner until finally, Veronica would have to go to the principal's office. What always amazed me was how Mrs. Holmes treated Veronica when she returned to the classroom. She never showed any indication of feeling any tension toward Veronica... she never appeared to hold a grudge.... nothing. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Of course Mrs. Holmes might tell a totally different story. I'm just remembering the view from the cheap seats.

          It wasn't long after I went into the second grade that I started hating school again and I pretty much hated it every day from then on, until I got to UNT and then it was like the magic of Mrs. Holmes just sprung to life inside of me all over again! I think this was in no small part due to the people I mentioned by name earlier in this post. They are all great teachers but what is truly amazing about each of them, is their tattoo artistry.

          First is Libby Dorn. I think of my "Libby Dorn" tattoo as something of a question mark, because Libby impressed upon me the power of the question. Asking someone a question not only prods them for an answer but also directs their thinking. Asking  yourself a question can direct your own thinking. Trying to think of the perfect question to ask someone, so as to direct their thinking, can REALLY direct your own thinking. Questions generate answers and answers bring about change. There are a lot of things in this world that need to change but nothing begins unless someone first asks a question. There may be a lot of things in my heart that need to change but I will never know if I do not first ask the question; however, if I refuse to ask the question, I can only become one thing and that is... close-minded. I found this to be very applicable in my bible reading. I used to say (and think) I read so that I could, "learn more about the Lord and be a better servant." But that wasn't entirely true, not really. If I am completely honest, I primarily had two goals in mind... one was to commit more scriptures to memory so I would be able to spout them out at opportune times and the other was to find the "proof" that supported my long held (unquestioned) beliefs. That is no longer my approach. Now I always ask a question before I begin reading and that is, "What does the Lord truly want me to learn today?". So to Libby Dorn I say... Thank you for this very special tattoo. It is a perpetual life-changer!

          Next is Jennifer Middleton. A few years back when the Cowboys were about to face the Redskins, Jimmy Johnson told his players, "When you hit a big gorilla, you don't ever hit him lightly... you hit him with everything you've got!!!". I have to say I dearly love my "Jennifer Middleton" tattoo! I think it's because it reminds me so much of the tattoos placed by Traci, my wife. If you know Traci then you know that when she smiles, she doesn't just smile with her face, she smiles with her entire body! She is actually that way about a lot of things... she doesn't just do them but does them with everything she's got! Jennifer exemplifies encouragement and when you are being encouraged by her,  you feel like you are receiving more than just a word of motivation and a placating pat on the back. You feel as if you are getting the full force of all of positive energy she can muster! The more I try to display this tattoo, the more I am finding how complex encouraging others can be. It's not the act of encouraging that gives me trouble so much as divorcing myself from the outcome. When I encourage someone, I truly want them to succeed but I tend to want them to succeed in the way I directed. So I am really working toward "encouragement without investment". Then I can display pure encouragement, which is a more accurate representation of my "Jennifer" tattoo. That requires me to avoid my urges to guide and/or direct and simply be a source of encouragement... Period! Then everyone can cherish my "Jennifer Middleton" tattoo as much as I genuinely do!

          My "Brenda Sweeten" tattoo is the most difficult to display, because it represents class in its purest, most complex form. It sits on a foundation of essential core elements and is held together with one vital component, which for me is a real problem because that one component tends to be contrary to my nature. You always hear of the importance of having integrity and how that leads to being more credible. That requires you to pay attention, speak the truth and be accountable. I do not struggle with any of those things but there is one more vital quality that binds all of those others together and if you do not possess that one quality, the whole thing falls apart. That one quality is the ability to keep your emotions in check. I know pretty much all of you will refuse to believe it, but it's true...  on very rare occasions, I have been known to have, what only one or two people on this earth would call, a hot temper. Emotion sometimes really gets in my way so how I generally handle it is to give in and go ahead and throw my fit. Then I am quickly rid of the emotion and I can proceed with complete calm. The problem is, if I am going to accurately exhibit my "Brenda" tattoo, I do not have that luxury.  A bad temper in and of itself isn't necessarily wrong but it tends to call into question your accountability, which eats away at your credibility and all of the other components that make up class. So even though I struggle, I am determined to display my priceless "Brenda Sweeten" tattoo!

          The point I really want my readers to absorb about all of these wonderful tattoos I have just discussed, is that each one has a hideous counterpart. It is the other side of the holograph. However, I choose to focus on the beautiful side of the holograph. I talk about it, I write about it, I try to let those feelings of beauty shine through the pictures I draw the poetry I write and even the lures I make. The truth is, it isn't always easy and I don't always succeed but that doesn't change the fact that this is the choice I have made. It is a choice that we all have the God-given right to make!

          Okay, I have said quite a lot about the many aspects of different types of tattoos, with particular focus on the artists who created them. I realize this is running way longer than my normal posts and you guys are likely growing weary... However, none of the things I have previously discussed are what this post is truly about. (I can just hear the collective groans) Good News! I am now (FINALLY) going to get to what this post is about, and that is...

What kind of tattoo artist are you?

          Oh snap! No, I didn't stutter... What kind of artist are you? How does your dog greet you every day? Does he  run up with a big smile and bright eyes and tail wagging? Or does he cower down and look anxious? What about your spouse? Does he or she greet you with a kiss, or do they act like you were standing there all along? Maybe they even try to avoid you altogether... Most importantly, what kind of tattoos are you placing on the hearts of  your children?  Do they leave you alone because they are afraid of what might happen if they bother you? Or do they take comfort in knowing they can come to you anytime, day or night, and be welcomed with love? Do your children step out into the world and cower down like Cooper? Or do they step out confidently, with noble character like Rocky? Have you given them tattoos of resilience, so someday when you are gone they can overcome? Or have you given them Tattoos of helplessness, so they will always have to depend on others?  

          We all go through life, giving and receiving tattoos. I prefer to believe that the better we give, the better we receive, but that does not make it your truth. I also choose to show the bright side of the holographs and do my best to be the best tattoo artist I can be. That is a choice you have to make for yourself, all on your own, because it's not just a "one and done" decision. It is one you have to make every second. I only ask that you please be aware of the fact that every second of your life, you are in the tattoo business.

          In closing, I would just like to say a final word to Mrs. Holmes...  I could never express the depth of my gratitude for the truly exquisite tattoos you placed on my heart, all those years ago. Without question they helped me heal from the wounds of the previous year, but they also sustained me through many dark and traumatic times that were yet to come and they are still some of my most comforting and influential tattoos. I never have to look any further than my own children, to see a reflection of those tattoos and they are beautiful! And I want you to know that those tattoos you gave me, that I have now passed on to my children, shine just as bright today as the day you gave them to me. Thank you!