Today was Mother’s Day. I talked to my mother on the phone – twice. Everything is good between us, even though I was an ass for so many years. Last year, on Mother’s Day, I got her flowers & a book written by one John Fante, titled Full of Life.

Both my parents came to see me. I was living in a sober house in Cleveland, OH. It was better than the Mother’s Day before that. That is a night I do not want to write or talk about. All I will say is I did not talk to my mother that year.

Never in my life did I anticipate how wonderful life could be. Let alone being able to share it with others.

Now, to change the subject, I’d like to talk about something MOST mothers do not like: tattoos. That’s right, the ink & art beneath the skin.

I got a message last night. Let’s say her name is Ms. K__. Ms. K__ shared with me how much she misses writing to her great uncle, her grandfather’s brother. She wanted to go to New York City with her grandfather; unfortunately, he passed away. However, Ms. K__ has been a Yankees fan since she was born.

She has several “memorial” tattoos on her, reminding her of her loved ones who passed away.

(I have several of them, myself.)

Everyone needs reminders. In fact, one of my tattoos is 7:13, behind my right ear. That was the time my son was born. Why I was so insistent on getting that, I’ll never know. But it seemed important to me. Behind the other ear is V. R. R. L. Those are my son’s initials. I have WOW tattooed on my wrist, which I say is MOM upside down. And I have many more. Most of them attributed to something literary, such as the City Lights Bookstore & Publishing logo. I got that tat in honor of the many authors they published. That would have gone unnoticed or forgotten if not for Lawrence Ferlinghetti & City Lights. Writers such as Charles Baudelaire, Antonin Artaud, Allen Ginesburg, & many more.

Here are some lyrics to a song:

“Mutilation is the most sincere form of flattery.”

Some may think tattoos are a form of mutilation. Some may think of it as a form of decoration. It does not matter which is right or wrong… if there is a right or wrong on the subject.

What matters is what is right for the individual. And what the design – the tattoo – means to them.

Do I regret some of the ones on my body?

Hell, yes.

But they are a reminder of my past. Something, at certain times, I do not wish to think about; however, I can not deny.

Thank you, Ms. K__, for making me think about these things. And giving me something to write about.