A confluence of conversations and television viewing brought this post to the fore. My friend Cathy mentioned recently that she was having a perfectly nice chat with a couple of women until they saw one of her tattoos and they backed away. Then I watched a television episode of "No Reservations" where chef/writer Anthony Bourdain visited the Pacific NW and in Portland, Oregon, was hanging out with a bunch of foodies, chefs, and cooks and noticed a vast number of tattoos, from cereal boxes to whisks and knives tattooed on arms. THEN my lovely friend Lisa Jane Persky wrote this terrific piece called "Skin Deep" for the LA Review of Books (http://lareviewofbooks.org/post/5543316619/skin-deep) and it was too coincidental, and it brought so many thoughts.

I do not have an interest in getting one. Many of my friends have them. Folks I like and admire have tattoos. The Dixie Chicks have chicken feet tattooed on their feet. Cornelia has a tattoo. Cathy has a bunch of them. I think at least two of the women at my number one favorite espresso hang-out have tattoos. I do not have or want a tattoo. But...

Tattoos are not what they were. The fact that all the people I just rattled off are women is, at least to me, interesting. I was raised in a religion that has a taboo on tattoo. There is a biblical phrase that appears to ban such practices. And of course, there is no way to avoid the meaning of tattoos after the reality that every concentration camp prisoner was tattooed. In order to write this piece, I went and read up on why Jews don't do tattoos and there is no clarity. What a surprise, right? But there are lots of "no, you can't" reasons. (But btw, if you're worried about being buried in a Jewish cemetery? You can be.) But the fact is I'm so not-observant, that would not stop me.

What stops me is that it sounds like it would hurt. I can't imagine volunteering to do something that you know is going to hurt. I've lived with pain too long in my life - though clearly the pain of a tattoo needle is different but it still is going to H-U-R-T. So, trying to think "would I have?" is hard to get past. The folks I know got their tattoos probably around the time that I was getting my ears pierced. My sister, my mother and I all got our ears pierced in the 60s and oh, for decades I wore every sort of earring I could. Mom was thrilled because clip-on earrings hurt and oh there were cheap earrings at every hippie shop, head shop, place in the Village when we went to New York. Oh, it was cheap wonderful ornamentation for $2. And why exactly our orthopedic surgeon was into it, I don't know, but for minor short term pain, there was immense benefit. Until i developed allergies and had to stop wearing the damn things, they were part of getting dressed every day.

But tattoos. As Lisa Jane talks about in her essay, some old-tine thinking lingers - drunk sailors, Marines on shore leave, macho dudes with fading images of eagles or mom or skills. Prison tats. The whole industry dedicated to removing gang tattoos. But I go back to the time Stu and i were in the grocery store and this couple came in (leaving their motorcycle in the parking lot). They were pretty clearly bikers and there we were. Ahem. But oh, they had these super cool armband tattoos. Celtic I think. And without really thinking about it, we went up and began talking to these folks, people who, otherwise, we probably would never have spoken to. And over several years, that scenario repeats. And I am grateful. Having a conversation with strangers, something you don't get to do often enough in the world. And I know that among my friends there are lots of tattoos I know nothing about.

Thinking about those two women who sidled away from Cathy, I'm dismayed. The tattoo that set them off, one of several that Cathy has as I understand, testifies about her daughter Kaitie's cystic fibrosis. had they read it, maybe they might have asked about it and been better people for that. Lisa Jane's essay talks about three books, one of them Ray Bradbury's THE ILLUSTRATED MAN while another book is concerned with book oriented tattoos. Which leads me down another path. When we hosted Left Coast Crime in 2007, we created little gift bags for our guests of honor. Our fan guests of honor were the hosts of the brilliant on-line discussion group, DorothyL. And they were librarians. And oh, were they happy to receive "The Illustrated Librarian" (yes), a book of temporary tattoos. Now discontinued, dammit, or I'd provide the link to Archie McPhee. But oh, to be able to wear "Born to Read" on your arm...

I can't imagine lying there/sitting there while someone with a sharp needle draws on me. what if my taste changes? Though yes, there are some images that i imagine I'd be happy with forever. And maybe if i had a tattoo of Eloise on my calf ("I am Eloise. I am six.") it would start a conversation. A dormouse in a teapot? A lecture reading "this is what disability looks like"? A Shepard Fairey image of Barack Obama? I will never know. I know I cringed for the vanity and stupidity of it years ago when I read of women getting eye liner tattooed on because, oh it's just so hard and time-consuming to put make-up on. Eu. Eueueueu.

For now, at least, it started this conversation. Thinking about that scene in Greenwich Village where Lisa Jane was getting her tattoo and passed out. My favorite of many moments in this essay is the image of Oral the drag queen holding her and singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" is almost worth having a tattoo just for that image, that line. It's too general to say that people who get tattoos are more daring, braver or bolder than I am. There are days when I feel pretty damn brave. But I'll have to assume that shows in some other way.

Next time, let's hope that those women move forward and ask politely "what does your tattoo mean?" Let's hope that next time, someone will take the time to find out that image is based on a quote from Oscar Wilde. Tattoos? They're not so scary. Yay to those brave enough to endure the pain so as to add to the conversation.