AJC > Sandy Springs > Blog > Archives > 2008 > October
October 2008
To Tatt or not to tatt?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Don’t tell my kids but I’m seriously thinking of getting a tattoo. Mom probably wouldn’t be thrilled either.
Tatts have been on the ‘don’t’ list where our kids were concerned until they turned 18. Then after 18 it was more of a lobbying effort.
Mainly I think most tattoos these days are gotten without a lot of mature thought, which I understand opens me up to a lot of flack from the young generation. I think anyone under the age of 25 who gets a tattoo probably gave more thought to their sock choice than getting ink shot under their skin.
So I’m sure there are going to be howls from the progeny when word gets out that I’m thinking about a tattoo at the tender age of 52. But it’s something I’ve been considering for several years.
Let me add a few qualifiers. If and when I get a tattoo it’s not going to be any larger than a 50-cent piece and not visible to the world at large. I’ve resisted so far because I wanted to get something that had some real meaning. This meant passing on things like my college team logo, Tweety Bird riding a Harley or a buxom topless mermaid swimming languidly around my forearm.
My quest for inky meaning changed last week when I completed the Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco and it was suggested I get “26.2” inked on the backside of my shoulder. I was almost ready to get it done the day after the marathon down at Fisherman’s Wharf but after much discussion I decided to bring my business local.
And I know I can’t return it if I change my mind, which is another reason I have pondered this choice for so many years. Tattoos and monogrammed towels just can’t be brought back, so I wanted to make this choice with proper deliberation.
And then there is the age issue. Is this a well-considered decision or a plunge across the threshold into a full mid-life crisis?
What would be next? I can’t afford the splashy sports car and would really rather spruce up the old Volvo, anyway.
I have too much hair to buy a toupee and there’s no way I’m going to start buying my clothes at Abercrombie.
A body piercing? Not with my low threshold of pain, which also has played a role in delaying the body art. By the time one realizes getting a tattoo might really hurt it’s usually too late.
To tatt, or not to tatt? That is the question.
Permalink | Comments (55) | Post your comment |
OMG! Is that your Dad on Facebook?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I have my own page on Facebook - and that’s a phrase I never thought I would type into a work of non-fiction.
Apparently the social networking site that is so popular with those in high school/college has broadened its base to include those of us who remember the world before the internet.
For years I’d heard about Facebook but it was usually connected to some scandal. Or it was something my kids were into, not to mention their friends. The only time I saw Facebook was when Dr. Phil was doing a show on girls who wished they had never posted some naughty photos.
I started my page as a possible online marketing device, but it proved to be impractical for that. But by then I found that several of my friends had established pages as well. It was every kid’s worst nightmare - instead of getting busted by the folks mom and dad were joining the party.
For my generation it would have been like your parents pulling into Woodstock with the camper and inviting your friends in for vanilla wafers and lemonade while Hendrix was performing.
One of our daughter’s friends was aghast that I had been “allowed” to launch my own page. I didn’t know at the age of 52 that I needed a note from home. By the way, I did cut a deal with both kids before we linked pages. I would not growl at anything I came across on their sites. So far I’ve seen lots of pictures of college kids eating pizza, standing around at football games and other PG material.
Then again, they may have pulled anything that might reveal a tattoo that has not been mentioned, an open bar or a collegiate bacchanalia that was not mentioned in an e-mail home.
By the way, if you want to make your kid get the deer-in-the-headlights look in their eyes just start your own page without notice and then invite them to link to it. It’d be the next best thing to tapping a keg at the dinner table and offering them a taste - but Facebook is legal.
This all plays into my theory that the quickest way to eliminate something you don’t like in your kid’s life is not to preach against it, but take it on as your own. Adopt enough online networking sites, new music genres, fashion styles, etc., and pretty soon you kids will run for somewhere safe.
Like the library.
Permalink | Comments (26) | Post your comment | Categories: Jim Osterman
When the pines come tumbling down
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I’m writing this from my home office, aka the screen porch, and I’m staring at a pine tree lying horizontally across our backyard that used to be standing tall in the neighbor’s property.
The good news is that no one was hurt, though I’m guessing our three dogs got a triple dose of adrenaline when it smacked to earth. And we’d hosted a party in the yard less than 24 hours before, so I’m thankful it did not come tumbling down then.
The only casualties are two metal chairs, an umbrella, a birdbath and an outdoor light, but we are hopeful the later can be nursed back to health.
I’m not a big fan of developers that clear-cut lots but if I ever hit the lottery you will see every pine on our property being hauled away. Of late just about every problem tree on the street has been a pine. And I have spent many unhappy hours scooping pine needles out of the gutters, so there is no love lost between me on the conifer population.
I’m certain that pine trees have their place in the circle of life but a few million in my pocket means there will be a glut of new firewood.
And I’m not the only one with tree problems. In our neighborhood we have a large dead pine at the intersection of Scott Valley and Burdett that needs to be dropped under supervision, but we’ve been told by the city they can’t afford it. Indeed, we have been told that there are several trees around our little slice of heaven that need to come down but the money is not there.
Anyone who has ever had a tree taken down knows that it’s not cheap. But a dead tree often has diseases or insects that can fatally affect nearby living trees. So if you’re the city what’s the answer? Go into debt removing dead trees — or ignore them and know that the problem is going to get bigger. We need more than a shrug of the shoulders.
The same day the tree toppled into our yard a friend down on the Gulf Coast of Alabama got six inches of rain in one afternoon. After we swapped our stories she suggested perhaps a greater power in the universe was just making its presence known - reminding us that we are not truly in charge.
I wonder if the universe knows how we should handle our tree problem?
The estimates to get the tree out of our yard are around $600. For less than half that amount I could get a fancy-schmancy, heavy-duty chainsaw and do the job myself, though it has been suggested that me with a super-powered chainsaw is one step down on the common-sense safety scale from me having a loaded gun.
Maybe I should just go buy some lottery tickets.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment | Categories: Jim Osterman
Gas crunch helps put things in perspective
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I’ve been lucky so far that I have only had to sit in two gas lines. Who would have thought that a hurricane hundreds of miles from our little burg would be slapping us around weeks later.
I’m lucky that most of my work takes place from home - my morning commute is the walk from the kitchen to wherever I park my laptop. In a normal week half a tank is more than enough.
But it’s funny how we can get so sideways when something that we take for granted is suddenly gone. All the convenience stores where I normally swing in for a couple gallons are still without gas.
I hope they’re selling a lot of beer nuts and sodas, but I suspect all sales are down since they have no fuel to peddle. One manager told me it’s been so long since he’s seen a tanker truck that he forgot he was in the gasoline business.
My buddy Brian has started taking the MARTA train to work, schlepping his bicycle to complete the journey and is giddy over how little gas he needs these days. How little gas you can get by on is the new status symbol.
I don’t criticize anyone who drives one of those big gas-chugging Hummers but you couldn’t give me one right now. My grandfather told me once to think twice before taking on anything I had to feed or paint. I’d love to know what he would think about any consumer vehicle that gets single-digit MPG.
The gas crunch reminds me of an ice storm a few years back where our neighborhood was among the last to get put back on line. We were without power for three days. By the time the lights where back on I was about ready to crawl inside the fireplace on top of the embers just to recall what warm felt like.
I’d rather sit in a gas line than be down in Clayton County where parents are wrestling with high school diplomas that are not worth the paper they are printed on. When Zach and Amelia were applying to colleges we never had to worry that their entire high school educations might be null and void.
There is much to be said for simply having a roof over my head with electricity, gas and running water. It’s kind of like that admonition that when you have your health you have everything.
Maybe not everything but the potential for everything.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment | Categories: Jim Osterman
Keep the drinking age at 21
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I know there are some kids who could handle the responsibility that goes with alcohol consumption at the age of 14, and I know several adults in their 50’s who have no business being near a can of beer, much less hard liquor. So I get it - being 21 does not automatically make anyone suddenly more responsible. But a benchmark is needed and that’s as good as any.
When I turned 18 the state law in Georgia allowed me legal access to booze and I took full advantage. And I was a late bloomer because some classmates had learned how to alter their driver’s license and had been drinking for a couple of years.
And if you knew the right places to go here in Sandy Springs you didn’t even need a fake ID. The bartender would just ask if you were 18 with a wink and you were off to the races.
Some say it would be a good thing if we were more like some European countries where kids grow up having wine with dinner. It would take much of the mystery out of drinking and leave some less likely to go wild when they finally leave home.
Both our kids were able to travel to Europe after they graduated from high school, and both drank while across the pond. So by the time they left for college any curiosity had been satisfied. But I don’t think a sudden culture shift is going to help.
I had my first drink at 16. My dad offered me a beer and when I recovered from the shock he laid out the rules. Only one. I was not allowed to get one without permission. And once I drank it I was not to leave the house the rest of the night.
There is the argument: “If I’m old enough to serve in the military at 18 I should be old enough to drink.” Great. Enlist, get through basic training and I’ll be happy to revisit the discussion. But don’t tell me your freedom is being abridged because you can’t legally drink until you’re 21. The Constitution wasn’t written to guarantee a good keg party.
Keeping the drinking age at 21 will means less kids under age dying from binge drinking or from wrapping their car around a phone pole while driving drunk. Not to mention anyone they might crash into.
If you are reading this and thinking the drinking age of 21 is The Man keeping you down, you’re right. And may you live with that resentment for years to come.
.JPG)
-1.JPG)
Services »
