No Regrets

I managed to live 54 years on this earth without getting a tattoo.
 
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve admired the artistry of tattoos on many occasions. Friends, colleagues, and more recently, my kids Hattie and Jack Saunders, have felt the need to get inked.

But something always held me back. Maybe it’s because I don’t like needles. Maybe it’s because I live in the “now” and always thought a tattoo, no matter how cool or fashionable, is a daily reminder of the past. Maybe it’s because of my friend Bill.

I met Bill in Los Angeles in 1995. He was a former Marine from Nebraska. A deep dive welder. Bill was in town to work on the Hyperion Water Reclamation Plant, one of the largest wastewater treatment facilities in the world. This mega crap smasher and turd converter spans over 200 acres and is designed to handle the majority of LA’s 6,700 miles of sewage lines. Bill’s job was to inspect the welding to ensure that a giant container of foulness didn’t blow up and flow up onto the pristine beaches in Santa Monica Bay.

Bill was affable, kind, and funny. He also had tattoos on both arms. On his left arm, he had a faded Marine Corps logo. His right arm sported a blue unicorn, resembling a My Little Pony character called Sparkle. I’m sure it was cool in 1985, but in 2022, um, not so much. Finally, Bill had a tattoo of his first wife’s name on his bicep. He’s been married three times. I can only assume wife number three is not happy about seeing wife number one’s name every morning when she wakes up.

But yesterday I decided the time had come to face my doubts and overcome my fears. I’ve preached brands for 30 years, so I finally got “branded.” I’ve lived my life with “No Regrets,” so I finally had the motto tattooed on my arm. What do you think?