Tattoo

“Me and my brother were talking to each other
About what makes a man a man…”
-- From “Tattoo” by The Who
This is the story of something I never thought I’d do.

There was a time when getting a tattoo held a strange fascination for me. Two Vietnam veterans in my bagpipe band had old, faded designs on their forearms: hearts impaled on daggers, leering skulls, screaming eagles and the like. I wondered about the stories behind them, and what it felt like to carry something on your body forever.

The idea lost its weird appeal when tattoos became trendy. Now it seems that half the population under the age of 30 has a tribal armband or, for the ladies, a floral design on the lower back. I had no need to make such a display to the world as an attention-getting device. So I discarded my tattoo fantasy.

But the idea returned with a vengeance in the fall of 2004. My mother was dying a slow death from Alzheimers Syndrome. She lost most of her memory long before her body died. Eventually she was unable to remember my name. On many occasions, I wasn’t sure she knew who I was. I watched the progression of her disease, and the complete disappearance of the personality I knew as my mother. It seemed that a part of my life was fading away as well.

Now the desire to get a tattoo seized me. I wanted to do something to honor her -- something that would be permanent, unlike her life which was slipping away.

My design decision was easy. For reasons I won’t go into here, my mother used to ask me when I was a young boy: “Will you put red roses on my grave?” Eager to please, like a good son I promised her that I would. Now, with her death approaching, I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to meet that commitment. So I decided to put a red rose on my body instead.

Spanky, the tattoo artist, came highly recommended by one of my wife’s patients. Spanky did several custom sketches for me. It took him several weeks to deliver the sketches, so I had plenty of time to be sure I really wanted to do this.

Now I have my tattoo. I showed it to my mother before she died. It’s a red rose with a thorny stalk and my nickname “Sonny.” Spanky drilled it onto my right shoulder one afternoon, with the music of his favorite heavy metal bands pounding away in the background.

I’ve never told anybody about my tattoo, except for a few close family members (and now you, my readers). It’s high up on my arm, where nobody will see it unless I’m shirtless or in a tank top. And with Ozzfest approaching, I think I’m ready to buy that tank top.

The song Tattoo originally appeared on The Who Sell Out, but I prefer the live version on the CD edition of The Who Live at Leeds. The lyrics include:
"Our old man didn't like our appearance
He said that only women wear long hair...."

Beaten Blue with Bowstrings

In this passage from Howard Pyle's The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, Robin Hood invites the tall stranger to join his "band of merry men," to which the stranger replies:

"...if there be any man here that can shoot a better shaft than I, then will I bethink me of joining with you."

"Now by my faith," said Robin, "thou art a right saucy varlet, sirrah; yet I will stoop to thee as I never stooped to man before. Good Stutely, cut thou a fair white piece of bark four fingers in breadth, and set it fourscore yards distant on yonder oak. Now, stranger, hit that fairly with a gray goose shaft and call thyself an archer."

"Ay, marry, that will I," answered he (the tall stranger). "Give me a good stout bow and fair broad arrow, and if I hit it not strip me and beat me blue with bowstrings."

The tall stranger is John Little, later known as Little John. In Pyle's versions of these stories, characters are fond of swearing mighty oaths, such as the one above. Another of my favorites occurs when The Tinker, Wat O' the Crabstaff, threatens Robin Hood, and swears "If I do not score his knave's pate, cut my staff into faggots and call me woman."

The King Must Die By Mary Renault

The King Must Die
By Mary Renault
338 pp. Vintage Books

I’ve just finished this novel, and it’s superb. Beautifully written with a gripping plot, The King Must Die is a realistic treatment of the first part of the Theseus myth, complete with Minotaur, labyrinth, the witch Medea -- and of course Ariadne.

Renault depicts Ariadne as both princess and priestess of an old earth mother religion in Crete. Theseus, a follower of the newer Sky Gods, grew up believing he was a son of Poseidon. Renault makes the conflict between the two religions a key theme, and uses it to move the plot in a direction that's consistent with the myth.

I recall seeing this book in my father's library when I was very young. He had all the Renault novels, including a title that fascinated me: Fire From Heaven.

At about age ten, I paged through Fire From Heaven. There I found scenes related to sex, marriage and jealousy which I never forgot. Though not explicit (these books were written in the 1950s), they disturbed me, leaving the impression that I was getting into deep water with these adult topics.

What made me decide to read this book after all these years? I recently came across an interview with fantasy/sci fi author Tanith Lee. She cited The King Must Die as her favorite book from childhood. Clearly it was a major influence on her style.

The power of Renault's descriptive writing is something to behold. Here's how she describes Theseus' reaction on first seeing the city of Athens:

"Suddenly, at the turn of the road between the low green hills, I saw standing huge before me a great flat rock, like a platform raised by Titans to assail the gods from. Upon its top, glowering bright in the western sunlight, stood a royal palace, the columns russet red, the pink-washed walls picked out with white and blue squares. So high it stood against the sky, the guards on the ramparts looked as small as goldsmith's work, and their spears as fine as wire. I caught my breath. I had guessed at nothing like this..."

A sequel, The Bull From the Sea, describes Theseus' later life.

The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson

The Black Arrow
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Whiling away my time in the library of The American School in London, I found this book purely by chance. I was in the seventh grade at the time.

The Black Arrow is set in England in the days of Henry VI. It opens with the knight Sir Daniel leaving a trail of rack and ruin across the countryside surrounding his Moat House. The villainous archer Appleyard (veteran of Agincourt), man-at-arms Bennett Hatch and Sir Oliver Oates assist Sir Daniel. The outlaw Jon Amend-All vows revenge against all four of them, taunting them in this note nailed to the door of the church:

Dick Shelton took the page in his hand and read it aloud. It contained some lines of very rugged doggerel, hardly even rhyming, written in a gross character, and most uncouthly spelt. With the spelling somewhat bettered, this is how they ran:

I had four blak arrows under my belt,
Four for the greefs that I have felt,
Four for the number of ill menne
That have oppressed me now and then


One is gone; one is wele sped;
Old Appleyaird is dead.
One is for Master Bennet Hatch,
That burned Grimstone, walls and thatch.


One is for Sir Oliver Oates,
Who cut Sir Harry Shelton's throat.
Sir Daniel, ye shall have the fourth;
We shall think it fair sport.


Ye shall each have your own part,
A blak arrow in each blak heart.
Get ye to your knees for to pray,
Ye are dead theeves by yea and nay.

From Jon Amend-All of the Green Wood and his jolly fellowship

"Now, well-a-day for charity and the Christian graces!" cried Sir Oliver, lamentably. "Sirs, this is an ill world, and daily groweth worse."

The book was filmed in 1911 and 1948. It was also an Australian TV special in 1973.

Lost Legends of New Jersey by Frederick Reiken

The Lost Legends of New Jersey
By Frederick Reiken
312 pp. Harvest 2001

Almost too good to be true, this novel wins my personal award for book of the year. Simply yet skillfully written, it's about adulterous adults, confused teenagers, families breaking up and living with mistakes and loss in suburban New Jersey.

On those strengths alone, the book enthralled me. But two added features put it over the top.

First, it's set in the very spot in New Jersey where I grew up. Most of the action takes place in Livingston. Also mentioned are Millburn, where I went to high school; South Mountain Arena, where I learned to ice skate; the Turtle Back Zoo, scene of grade school field trips; and the teenage hangouts Don's Restaurant and Friendly's.

That's a nice coincidence for me personally. But what's even better is the author's admirable skill in making his points in multiple ways. He often uses the plot and characters to deliver his message. But then he'll deliver the same message in a different way, often with metaphors. The more closely I read, the more of this I discovered. It gave me the sense that the book was working on several levels at once, and it unfolds in a way that seamless and natural.

Here are two of my favorite examples.

Anthony, the central teenage character, is drawn to Juliette, the tough Italian girl next door. Anthony wants to save Juliette from a broken family, her own bad decisions and a meathead jock boyfriend with a mean streak. Reiken handles this first in a literal sense, with Anthony giving Juliette advice. Then the writer approaches the same issue symbolically. One night, Anthony helps Juliette to recognize the constellation Leo, also her astrological sign. At first, she can't see it. Then she recognizes it, and it's bigger than she expected. She also notices more stars than she's ever seen before. Reiken's telling us to learn to see ourselves clearly, to rise above pain and turmoil and see the beauty of life. This is my kind of symbolism -- obvious and accessible, the kind I can understand without too much effort.

In another episode, Anthony loses his virginity. But Reiken reverses the usual boy/girl roles. An older girl seduces Anthony. He's smitten, but she discards him after a one-night stand. She'd rather spend after-school time becoming a junior paramedic so that she can improve her chances of getting into medical school (heartless!). Later, after Anthony knows the affair is over, she gives him a ride in her car, which has a removable blue light and siren for paramedic use.

She said, "I'm glad I robbed your cradle. Aren't you?"

”I wish I knew."

She kept watching him for a moment. Then she said, "Well, we'd better get this siren in."

She hit the switch for the power window. She reached outside, pulled it in, and the whole car filled up with its blue light. She said, "Look into my crystal ball. If you look hard, you'll see your future." Anthony looked and for a moment the light was blinding. Then it died. She had pulled the plug.

=======================================================
More information: Harcourt Books website

The Coming of Conan The Cimmerian by Robert E. Howard

The Coming of Conan The Cimmerian
by Robert E. Howard
463 pp. Ballantine Books 2003

The first 13 of Robert E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian stories have just been re-published in this trade paperback.

Don't judge these by the standards of the Schwarzenegger films. (I happen to like those films, but for other reasons.) Written in the 1930s, these are literally the original sword and sorcery stories, with the brutal Conan constantly encountering monsters, enslaved princesses and evil sorcerers. Anyone who likes fantasy should read at least a couple, even if only to see how the genre began. My personal favorite is "The Tower of the Elephant."

Now for the caveats.

These stories were aimed at a largely male pulp magazine audience. This was the 1930s equivalent of today's action film. Therefore, the testosterone quotient is pretty high. Women are usually depicted as weeping damsels in distress, which won't please some female readers.

The plots shamelessly cater to adolescent male fantasies and insecurities. Conan, the man of action, is always able to master whatever unexpected situation he's thrown into, usually by kicking butt all over Cimmeria, or Aquilonia, or whatever mythical country he finds himself in. Beautiful women melt at the mere sight of him. The plots are contrived so that these women are forced by circumstances to share his company. By the time the story's over, they refuse to leave him.

When you get right down to it, the sullen, inarticulate Conan is essentially a rather one-dimensional character. But I didn't care about that when I read these stories as a teenager.

After Howard committed suicide, other authors somehow took over the franchise and kept writing new Conan stories. Avoid these inferior works. I think they are now out of print, but they turn up regularly in used bookstores.

To the Castle Dangerous

From "The Tale of Sir Gareth" in Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur

Sir Gareth and an unpleasant nameless "lady" are forced to seek shelter in Sir Persaunte's castle. Gareth retires to bed and finds his virtue sorely tested -- a recurring theme in these tales:

That evening he (Sir Persaunte) summoned his beautiful daughter, who was aged eighteen: "My daughter, if you would please me, go to Sir Gareth, lie in his bed, take him in your arms and kiss him, and make him welcome as only a woman can."

At her father's bidding, the daughter went to Sir Gareth's bed, quietly undressed, and got in beside him. Sir Gareth swore, and asked: "Pray, who are you?"

"Sir, I am Sir Persaunte's daughter, and I come at his command, not of my own free will."

"Are you a maid or a wife?"

"Sir, I am a maid."

"Then God forbid that you should remain. It would be as shameful for me as for your father; so I beg you, return to him."

The daughter duly returned to her father, and told him all that had happened. "He must indeed be of noble blood," her father responded.

In the morning Sir Persaunte asked the lady where she was taking Sir Gareth.

"To the Castle Dangerous," she replied.

From Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur, A New Rendition by Keith BainesMentor/New American Library ©Copyright 1962