Tattoo You?

No tattoo!“So, what do you think?” SL asked.
“It’s nice,” I replied.
“So, you think you want one?”
“Nah, not for me.”
“Why not?”
“Just not interested.”
“It’s not like it hurt much.”
“That’s good, but still not interested.”

SL, one of my best friends at the time was nearly incredulous by my blasé attitude towards his first tattoo. After all, we were 19 (or thereabouts) when this conversation (or some semblance of it) occurred.  He probably looked at the tattoo as a statement, a declaration of independence. He always wanted to push the envelope.

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Some Things Are Timeless

Great Art is TImeless

The Beatles are timeless.

All nostalgia. All the time. Yes, the last few days have been about The Beatles and the 50th Anniversary of their first live US television performance.

We’ve all seen the clips of Ed Sullivan introducing them. He stiffly waves his arm and these neatly groomed Rock n’ Roll rebels in suits and ties break into “All My Loving.”  According to an article from Time, “60% of American TVs were tuned to CBS” to watch The Beatles that February 9th.  In addition, “The crowd outside stretched over eight blocks, giving the place the revved-up energy of a Broadway opening.”

So, the Beatles were a phenomenon before their first performance.  And that performance and their catalogue of work have solidified what people sensed before hand.

They clearly remain a phenomenon so based on the 312,000,000 results (0.26 seconds) from Google when typing in The Beatles.

Last night I was talking to BR – my 9-year-old about The Beatles. By the way, for the record, I like The Beatles but am not a fanatic.

Anyway, after confirming that he had heard of The Beatles, we had a discussion about the band.

“How old are The Beatles now?”

“Well, there were four of them but only two of them are alive now.”

“What happened to the other two?”

“One of them was shot. It was very tragic.”


“December 9th, 1980. I kind of remember it, but it didn’t mean that much to me at the time.”

“Why did someone shoot him?”

“I don’t know. He was a crazed fan.”

“What about the other one who died?”

“What about him?”

“Well, was he killed?”

“No, he just died of old age.”

“How old was he?”

“I don’t know but think about it. If The Beatles first played in America 50 years ago and they were a group for a few years before that.  They have to be at least in their 70’s now and he died a few years back. So, he was like 60. ”

“Wow, they’re almost as old as bubbie (Yiddish word meaning grandmother).”

Yes, these men who made teenage girls scream, captured the attention of the world, affected the destiny of music are now either deceased or old men.

Do you realize The Beatles were only together for 10 years?  The band officially broke up in 1970 or 6 years after the famed Ed Sullivan show performance (and the year of my birth).

Yet, they remain a force today.

The Beatles are Shakespeare, Beethoven, Robert Frost, etc. They are artists, creators whose work is bigger than themselves.

So, while people are happy and feel nostalgic to see Paul and Ringo together, the music goes way beyond their physical presence.  It’s the Beatles music which lives on to future generations and continues to affect others.

That’s truly the power of art.

Pic is courtesy of gOOGLE Images


Teach Me Colors, Crayola Crayons


box of 64 crayonscourtesy of

box of 64 crayons
courtesy of

box of 8 crayons – courtesy of







There are two types of students in this world. Those who attended art class with the pack of 8 Crayola crayons and those who attended with the 64-crayon set complete with its own sharpener. I am the youngest of four boys, and my parents were on a tight budget. So, guess which pack of crayons I had.

Me and my 8-pack limped into art class every year. This handicap was probably surmountable for someone who possessed some artistic skills. Not me. Any artistic skills I have go towards writing, thank you very much.

One time my teacher said, “Draw a winter scene.” I borrowed someone’s white crayon, drew the whole page white, and proudly showed the teacher my creation. When she asked, I told her it was a blizzard. She was not as proud of my creativity (okay, I was being a wise ass – hey this skill did not just occur – I have honed it since birth.) and insisted I go back and try harder. I hrrmphed and did as instructed.

Not only am I artistically challenged, I am very poor at color identification. After all, I was only taught eight colors. Now unlike you 64-pack people who probably know that sepia is in the brown family (I just looked it up on Crayola website, I know only blue, brown, yellow, orange, purple, red, black, and green. Don’t ask me about different shades, gradations, and the fancy names that go along with them.

Now, while I am clearly a bit bitter over my knowledge deficiency of colors, I have managed to live a decent life. But don’t think it is irrelevant.

I have a friend, JS, who is color blind, and can’t distinguish red from green. Someone you want to drive with, eh. Somehow, he does work it out, but getting dressed can be a challenge. He stocked up on khaki pants figuring that any shirt matches khaki. The only time he gets in trouble is when he decides he wants to wear his black pants. Then, he needs help. And even if he makes a mistake, it is understandable.

But what about me (wow – that sounds so selfish)? A while back, I told you about my desire to be stylish even if I don’t love shopping. My drive to be stylish has few requirements. However, color recognition is certainly one of them.

While I am not color blind, telling the difference between navy and black is nearly impossible for me. The other day I held took a polo shirt out of my closet and held it up to the light. I put it next to my pants. I asked my six-year-old, but he was busy watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I decided the heck with it, assumed it was navy, and went on with my evening. The next day I started doubting and when I got to work, I asked a colleague. She confirmed, “No, that is definitely black.”

Crap, I screwed up again. I’d like to blame it on me being in a rush to lay my clothes out. I have actually gone to work with two different black shoes before and not noticed till I felt a bit off balance.

I blame my 8-pack of Crayola Crayons. My whole life might be more colorful if I had the pack of 64. Well at least, I could match my clothes and talk about different color shades. Oh well, I suppose I’m feeling blue.