Once upon a time, tattoo parlors were the domain of the docks, the back alleys of cities or down the block from a military base. Their proprietors were bikers, dockworkers and servicemen. But somewhere in the waning days of the 20th century, things changed and the tattoo became not only fashionable, but ubiquitous.
You could say the tattoo managed to do something very few politicians ever hope to accomplish – transcend generational and culture lines.
Today it seems you can’t watch a sporting event without noticing all the individuality on display through countless tattoos that have evolved into the trendier moniker: body art. In fact, it appears those who don’t indulge are now the exception.
The tattoo has gone primetime replete …show more content…
When people go about attempting to display their individuality, they are no longer individuals; they become surface consumers who depend on their appearance rather than the confidence of their actions, behaviors and personalities. The true individualist doesn’t concern themselves how others view …show more content…
Take for instance, the Greatest Generation. For many of those people getting a tattoo may have been a reminder of their fragile mortality and a distinct reminder of how precious life is provided they survived.
My Uncle Charlie, like many in his generation, served in the Navy during World War II. Like many sailors both now and then, he consummated his naval service by awarding himself a tattoo. I suppose it was his way of stating that he survived more than one battle in the Pacific. Uncle Charlie didn’t go half way either. No basic arm tattoo he went right for the grand daddy – a Yankee Clipper – plastered front-and-center on his chest.
The ensuring years, however, were not too kind as the once bright ink became faded and discolored. It probably didn’t help that the old bucket started to sag along with it. It wasn’t until he had open heart surgery that the Clipper looked like it had eaten a good chunk of air and naval gunfire that rendered the old boat unrecognizable.
Such an occurrence convinced his young nephew that tattoos were something he would not pursue no matter what degree the peer pressure was turned up to. That day would arrive soon enough. Where I first served it became a ritual that every ensuing payday weekend more than a handful of boot-Jarheads would visit the local tattoo parlor just a hand grenade toss from the base’s main
You could say the tattoo managed to do something very few politicians ever hope to accomplish – transcend generational and culture lines.
Today it seems you can’t watch a sporting event without noticing all the individuality on display through countless tattoos that have evolved into the trendier moniker: body art. In fact, it appears those who don’t indulge are now the exception.
The tattoo has gone primetime replete …show more content…
When people go about attempting to display their individuality, they are no longer individuals; they become surface consumers who depend on their appearance rather than the confidence of their actions, behaviors and personalities. The true individualist doesn’t concern themselves how others view …show more content…
Take for instance, the Greatest Generation. For many of those people getting a tattoo may have been a reminder of their fragile mortality and a distinct reminder of how precious life is provided they survived.
My Uncle Charlie, like many in his generation, served in the Navy during World War II. Like many sailors both now and then, he consummated his naval service by awarding himself a tattoo. I suppose it was his way of stating that he survived more than one battle in the Pacific. Uncle Charlie didn’t go half way either. No basic arm tattoo he went right for the grand daddy – a Yankee Clipper – plastered front-and-center on his chest.
The ensuring years, however, were not too kind as the once bright ink became faded and discolored. It probably didn’t help that the old bucket started to sag along with it. It wasn’t until he had open heart surgery that the Clipper looked like it had eaten a good chunk of air and naval gunfire that rendered the old boat unrecognizable.
Such an occurrence convinced his young nephew that tattoos were something he would not pursue no matter what degree the peer pressure was turned up to. That day would arrive soon enough. Where I first served it became a ritual that every ensuing payday weekend more than a handful of boot-Jarheads would visit the local tattoo parlor just a hand grenade toss from the base’s main