As Dad kneeled down to check the tire pressure on each tire of our Ford Mustang. Little brother of about four years and I would follow and stand behind Dad, watching as his body settled in that stance – shirtless, the crack of his butt sticking out just a little, and the tattoo of two eyes (about an inch or bigger) with eyebrows barely peeking out just above his belt line. When little brother seen that, he quickly slapped and covered his mouth while turning a little towards me with shoulders raised. Even with his mouth covered I could still see the smile on his face. That in turn made me do the same thing; you have to picture brother with his round head of bright red hair and large close-spaced freckles, it just looked funny!
Dad had many tattoos, I’m pretty sure he got them all when serving in the Navy. I remember that of all the tattoos, my favorite was the big, real BIG, eagle on his chest. The tattoo world would call that a ‘chest plate’. The eagle’s wing tips stretched out to the very outside tips of his shoulders, with its head turned to one side and its legs and talons hung straight down just like the eagle on reverse side of a U.S. quarter. That’s patriotic!!
Little did we know the different things Dad went through while serving on Navy Destroyer U.S.S. Brush; the various ventures, hardships, locales and things required that earned him the privilege to adorn that Navy tattoo flash. I would call it a ‘Rite of Passage’. But with all that said, fifty years back and standing behind Dad, we just thought that it looked funny.
As I was sitting next to Dad at the hospice, I looked at his tattoos, ink all blotched together from old age. Anybody else would not make sense of them, but I knew. Dad was buried at Riverside National Cemetery with honors. My brother and I were the only two at the service. Dad did not want anybody else there. I was looking at a picture of us next to Dad’s flag draped coffin. The same two kids standing behind Dad way back then.
You certainly portrayed the title very well. And you revealed some of the things that fathers don't share with their sons that you had to find out for yourself. At least he was around for your entire life and didn't lose his life in that time when he had those tattoos placed on his skin for allegiance to his buddies and protection from what might come suddenly and deadly.
Your dad wore his heart on his sleeve in the manner of tattoos on flesh, the canvas for his patriotism and self-sacrificing service to is country. You story has soul.
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