Well written, and unintentionally saying so much about how PC-beaten-down men of European heritage have become that a man feels the need to write a full-page apologia for the faintest, most reluctant, almost random identification with his own kinship group. Very sad, but extremely instructive, and much appreciated by this reader
- 1
- 2
Making My Macmark
Email To A Friend
Please fill in the following information and we'll email this link.
SPONSORED BY
And there's the rub when it comes to tattoos, because it may not be so much about picking the right one as it is not picking the wrong one. I've always liked Southwestern imagery—gecko lizards and cattle skulls—but that now seems so '70s, like an old Eagles album cover. So, I thought, how about something with more timeless appeal? For instance, that flute-playing Kokopelli stick figurine, the one the Anasazi Indians were so fond of, bringer of joy, happiness and fertility. The thing is, to me he's just "cool," but in some circles the guy is looked upon as sacred. Suddenly I've opened the door to all those questions about the unauthorized use of Native American symbols. Would affixing his likeness to a wayward Scotsman be viewed as a step toward racial harmony or simply one more case of cultural insensitivity?
" Imagine all the people, sharing all the world ... "
So I put aside the Southwestern thing. I thought about a tattoo of a Volkswagen, an old one, to acknowledge both my hippie past and love for the vintage vehicle. I could get one of a Beetle or, better yet, a microbus on some winding mountain road, an arm extended from the driver's window, hand flashing a peace sign, and maybe that rainbow in the distance ...
Yikes. It's easy to see how these things can quickly spiral out of control. And why it's probably best to keep alcohol out of the mix. One minute you're doodling pictures of swords on a bar napkin and the next you have the Battle of Helm's Deep splashed across your back.
In the end, my choice was more about originality than anything else, I guess. The last thing this world needs is another silver-haired suburbanite flashing his Harley-Davidson tat around the water cooler. But it doesn't mean I've forgotten the words of Rodney King—or John Lennon, for that matter. Quite the contrary: now I may have to get some of those words tattooed on the other arm just to even things out. Maybe on the side of that microbus, on that winding mountain road ...
MacDougall lives in Lowell, Mich.
© 2008
- 1
- 2
Discuss