In December 1996 I sat down to get my first tattoo, three small Hebrew letters (חֶסֶד = lovingkindness) on the ring finger of my left hand. It took the artist about five minutes to install it and cost me a grand total of $45, which I paid in cash. I used the word, chesed (pronounced KHES-ed), as a framework for a part of my vows a few days later.
And I meant it. I know I was an imperfect partner at times. But I really did try to live every implication of the word, as well as the indelibility of the deed, each day of my 28-year marriage.
That this tiny yet deeply meaningful bit of ink has now cost me nearly $1000 over the course of some 13 treatments in the last 12 months to remove, and that it was still visible on my finger after all this time (when not covered with cheap drugstore concealer), is one of the giant ironic metaphors of my now-defunct marriage.
Lately I’ve grown so tired of seeing this word (this promise) on my hand. every. fricken. day. A persistent reminder of all that I've lost.
Knowing that yet another trip to the laser-lady downtown wasn’t going to amount to much, I texted my favorite tattoo-guy (and good friend), Soup, on Monday and scheduled a session with him to cover it up. Thought long and hard about what to do… super stoked with what we came up with and could not be more pleased with the result.
The word TELEMARK is likewise not the very Real thing it represents, but it is nonetheless the name of something that I love and to which I am quite dedicated (since well before I married, in fact).
More importantly, it’s also 100% not the thing that I don’t want to be reminded of any longer.
And that is a very good thing, indeed.
That this tiny yet deeply meaningful bit of ink has now cost me nearly $1000 over the course of some 13 treatments in the last 12 months to remove, and that it was still visible on my finger after all this time (when not covered with cheap drugstore concealer), is one of the giant ironic metaphors of my now-defunct marriage.
Lately I’ve grown so tired of seeing this word (this promise) on my hand. every. fricken. day. A persistent reminder of all that I've lost.
Knowing that yet another trip to the laser-lady downtown wasn’t going to amount to much, I texted my favorite tattoo-guy (and good friend), Soup, on Monday and scheduled a session with him to cover it up. Thought long and hard about what to do… super stoked with what we came up with and could not be more pleased with the result.
The word TELEMARK is likewise not the very Real thing it represents, but it is nonetheless the name of something that I love and to which I am quite dedicated (since well before I married, in fact).
More importantly, it’s also 100% not the thing that I don’t want to be reminded of any longer.
And that is a very good thing, indeed.
I have a few other tattoos. Check them out, if you're into that kind of thing.
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