Why I don’t have a Tattoo
I have 2 brothers and none of us have tattoos. That’s not to say that we’re a bunch of prudes; quite the opposite, really. I have lots of friends with inked arms and ankles. And my brothers’ friends have an even greater propensity to paint their skin. But it’s not something that has even been a vague interest of mine, or my brothers. And that is likely because we all knew “Booger Bear”.
Booger Bear was a large man, about 6′ 2″ and weighing in the 240 lb. range. He worked down the street with Mr. Gardner at the pool table / juke box / pinball machine repair shop. He was illiterate and did most of the heavy lifting jobs as well as delivery. When Terry and Jerry weren’t available, Booger would be sent to my dad’s restaurant to pick up the coffee for their shop. He was the low man on the totem pole, so to speak. I didn’t know any other grown-ups that couldn’t read. He certainly inspired me to do well in school.
As with any regular customer at the restaurant, everyone knew Booger Bear. He was always friendly to my brothers and myself and liked to joke around and tease us. He wasn’t the quick wit and perpetual jokester like Mr. Gardner, but he tried. Typically, we poked fun at him behind his back. And my mom did not hide her disgust of Booger’s tattoos. She would often solicit his advisement. “See there, look at Booger Bear’s arms. You don’t want to have tattoos like that when you grow up. Ain’t that right, Booger?” The obvious answer was “no”. Mom had a definite sense of right and wrong. But what made the answer obvious was that Booger had crossed out a couple of his tattoos, a sure sign of regret.
Although there were several tattoos that were done professionally by someone during his Armed Forces tour of duty, Booger had a few that were obviously self inflicted. The name “Susan” was crossed out. Just below Susan was a crossed out “Nancy”. And while Donna was no longer a sweetheart, her name remained unscathed. All of them were in the handwriting of a small child. A man without penmanship really shouldn’t be trusted with the tattoo pen.
“Once you have a tattoo, you can’t take it away. It’s there forever.“, my mom would say. Her message stuck.
I was probably in high school when Booger Bear learned to read. A retired school teacher had taken an interest in helping Booger. And he was extremely motivated. I’ll never forget the day when he came in the restaurant, sat at the counter and proudly read me the menu as if I were still wondering what it said. His world had opened up and his smile was almost perpetual.
It’s been over 20 years since the owner of the game shop ran his Cadillac into a telephone pole and the business closed. I don’t know what happened to Booger Bear after that. Maybe he got a better job in another part of town. Wherever he is, I’m sure Booger Bear is still inspiring others to enjoy life, read well and stay away from the tattoo gun.
Sphere It