Thug life in the burbs...

I tell myself that other people’s tattoos are none of my business. It’s not my life, forget it. But it still bothers me. I counted three Indian “Dream Catchers” at the gym last week, on a calf and two upper right arms. These were not Native American men. Women with butterflies on thick ankles, lower back tattoos on flesh that should be covered…they’re intended to …what? Entice? Seduce? And don’t even get me started on “tribal” tattoos. You know they’re done and over with when the 75 year old lady in front of me at the grocery store has a fresh one covering the back of her neck. All pointy spears and curvy black angles. What do these people think? That they are social rebels? Going to shock people? I mean, maybe 30 years ago, but now it’s all so...Walmart. But hey, body art is just that, art. So here’s my appeal to everyone who is going under the needle any time soon. Make it original art that means something to you personally. Realize that you may think or feel differently in 30 years, so make the message about things that are timeless. Hell, if I had gotten tattoos as a young man, I would have fading dark circles with the Zig Zag man trapped inside and Marijuana leaves all over my arms. Think about it. Don’t just have a few adult beverages, go into a strip mall tattoo parlor and point at something on the wall that has already been done on ten thousand people before you. Have an artist friend design something with you, or better yet, design it yourself. Then visualize it on your skin for six months or so before you do it. Oh, and the trend with young people seems to be handwritten script, a proverb or heavy message. You do know that will look like two lines of dark smear in 25 years? If you want it, at least put some distance between the letters and words. Allow for smear. Because that’s what happens, it all gets smeared together. My ant tattoo from 30 years ago looks like a dark blob lying on a dark blob. Go figure. So do yourself, and all of us who have to look at you, a favor. Put some personal style into it, make it pop. It is art, after all, so help me out here and please don’t be just too stupid to walk and breathe air. Make a statement that is unique to you and…well, memorable...and use correct spelling, please...

Maverick Silver

For more than 100 years, “Maverick” belt buckles were custom made in a Mexican silver shop and given to every male in my family when they turned 16. That tradition ended when my Grandfather passed. He was the last male in that line, no living sons to carry the name. 

The back of this buckle reads: “From Grandpa Maverick to Hugh Maverick Haller, Jan 23, 1964”. 

Although I wore it for twenty years, another twenty passed as it sat, overlooked and forgotten. Yesterday I noticed it in my closet, peeping out from underneath a pile of belts, its leather cracked, mildewed… several sizes too small for me now. This morning I removed the buckle and shined it up. Tomorrow I’ll go into town where there is a small leather-craft shop in the historic district. The owner makes a wide variety of leather goods: purses, wallets, belts... I plan to start wearing my new belt very soon. With a bit of luck we’ll both be good for another 20 years...