I never thought I'd get a tattoo. Then I met Lyle Tuttle.

My freshly inked bird.

I interviewed legendary tattoo artist Lyle Tuttle at the perfect time in my life.
I was about to turn 41, the age my mother was when she killed in a car crash, and couldn't decide how to mark that milestone.
But as I listened to Lyle describe how he didn't need pictures of all the places he'd been or the people he'd met because he carried them on his body, collecting tattoos everywhere like "stickers on luggage," I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

That was cool.

At the time, I had a necklace my mother wore in high school that I put on whenever I wanted her close to me, especially on airplanes. But the necklace irritated my skin, and there was always the chance I'd leave it behind.
So if I got a tattoo on my arm, something small and discreet I could look at whenever I needed to, that seemed like the perfect way to carry her with me always.
I decided to get a bird since my mother loved them so much, and found a simple drawing of a hummingbird I liked online. Knowing I wanted a friend who lived in San Francisco to come with me and that I would prefer a woman to draw on me, I found a female tattoo artist in that city whose work I liked and made an appointment near my birthday.

The drink of courage.

After a stiff drink at a neighborhood bar with my friend, I headed over to get my ink. At first the artist resisted my choice, suggesting I might prefer original artwork to something I "just found on the Internet," but she soon agreed to do as I asked, only questioning me one more time when I explained to her where I wanted the bird.
"You do realize that if I put it there like that, it will be upside for everyone looking at it?"
"That's OK," I said. "It's for me to look at."
She smiled, then did exactly as I asked, and I could not be happier with it.
It is the perfect way to take my mother with me everywhere, helping me when my courage wanes, and reminding me that every day that bird is on my arm is a day she never had.
And I never would have thought to get my bird if I hadn't met Lyle. 

Lyle died Monday, March 25, at his home in Ukiah at the age of 87. Rest in peace, Lyle. And thanks.
 

Lyle said he liked being able to hide his tattoos "because they're mine."  (Photo by Chris Pugh/Ukiah Daily Journal)

Read more about Lyle's life here, including how he became fascinated with tattoos "when he was 10 years old and saw men returning from World War II with the ink, forever equating it with adventure, travel and escape from small towns such as Boonville and Ukiah."