My uncle grew up working in his father’s Harley shop and when the father passed away, my uncle took over the shop. The biker culture always included tattoo art. My cousins grew up with this in their family and when my oldest became a man, he went and got a tattoo. The three brothers were then and are now artists, so Brian, the oldest, purchased a tattoo gun. He practiced on himself, his father and fruit at first. As he had tattoos done by others, I considered my own work. I too am an artist, and I considered getting a tattoo, also. At first I thought of silly things like cartoon characters (ok for some, but not me), and then I wanted the experience of doing this but not necessarily designing it. I chose two interlaced dragons on my right shoulder. Nothing too drastic, and we had my uncle’s friend do the ink. Part way through I felt a little ill, but the biting needles didn’t both me that much. As I left the tattoo shop, he said, “you’ll be back”. He explained that he knows a way large population of people who cannot get a single tattoo.

He was right. Within a year I was back in his shop. Even though I don’t run off to church weekly, I am religious. I wanted a fish that in part represented fisher of men, but I wanted it to be subtle. I had the letters of the fisher of men built into a koi’s scales, and I went back to same tattooist. That fish went on the inside of my left ankle. By this time my cousin was working on his tattooing more and more and he was cheaper than anyone since he was family. Over the next few years during college he tattooed a red and black tribal son on my left shoulder and a toe ring one weekend when were in Penn State and bored out of our minds. Then it was time for the biggest tattoo: my iguana. I got my iguana tattooed over the course of about five hours initially. I remember lying on my mum’s dining room table while my cousin worked on it. We listened to Toad the Wet Sprocket while he worked and I also took a nap. The tattoo is about 14″ and it’s on the back of my left leg. The final tattoo I got for a really long time was my dream catcher under my tribal sun. I got this as my wife and I began dating, and I’ve not had anything since. Not until now.

This past summer Donna and I traveled to Las Vegas with some friends, and we came very close to getting tattoos. This got me thinking of what I would get. I considered several different ideas; some of them were simpler and others really need to be designed well. It wasn’t the right time, not then.

As I began searching for a good idea this year for presents for my brother and sister, I knew I wanted to get my brother something that he could take with him wherever he went that would always remind him of me. The only thing that could be is a tattoo. It was time, but what would I get? I considered a few ideas and then it came down to something that had a raccoon or my daughter’s name. I wanted something that represented my child, and I highly considered getting her name tattooed across the inside of my left wrist. Donna, frankly, was less than thrilled with the idea. I knew I could cover the tattoo with my watch band when needed. That didn’t convince her.

I had a student design a raccoon tattoo for me that had a scorpion in the center, which I thought represented me well. But when I got home, it just wasn’t doing it for me. I didn’t feel it and I had to feel it. And at this point the only people who knew about the Christmas gift in my family was my wife and mother, and the only reason my mother knew was because she guessed it one morning.

As Christmas break began, I went looking online. I am never one (after tattoo #1) to just get a stock design but I knew I could find ideas online that I could develop and redesign into something. As I searched, Christmas morning arrived. I wrote a nice note in both their Christmas cards announcing my intentions of paying for tattoos for them both. Meghan was nervous but she has two tattoos already, and her tribal sun needed some work so she could be safe and do a touch up. Jaime, who’s always more reserved, didn’t have much to say. I told them I’d find time when we were available to go get a tattoo. I also began figuring out where to go. I emailed a few friends in Pittsburgh but since I didn’t live there in a decade, I wasn’t sure. I also went on Twitter and sent out a message. One person mentioned a tattoo shop in Bloomfield that I considered, but then @corpsefire wrote to me about Shannon Daley at Jester’s Court in Southside. Southside is my old stomping grounds for years so this felt right to me.

Now I needed a design and kept putting it off. Donna initially was getting ink with us, but then she backed out because (I assume) her design wasn’t ready. As I worked on my design and was frustrated, she suggested I just get them theirs and not worry about mine for now. This wasn’t how it would pan out. This was something I was doing with them. It had to be us all.

One problem I had with the raccoon design was that it was circular and there’s not a spot where I felt like it fit on my body. Then I found a really small drawing of a tribal raccoon online, and suddenly I had an idea. This worked for me, but now I needed it designed. I liked the shape and the body, but it needed work to be mine. I grabbed the body and enlarged it. Then began working on the tail that reminded me of the FireFox fox tail (which I thought was kind of cool), but it didn’t feel right to me. I was showing the initial design to my mother and had this circular area in the center that didn’t work. She suggested the @ sign (it’s called an asperand, if you must know), and I loved the idea! A large part of why I was getting the raccoon was because over the years it has become my online identity. Everywhere online I’ve been known as @nooccar now (including this blog), but something was still missing. As I designed, redrew, and worked on that tattoo I showed it to Donna again. She said the ringed design on the tattoo didn’t seem to work and why not go directly with the word “nooccar” built into the tail as the texture. I adored the idea and began working on it. By now I was running out of days in break, since it was December 30th. Over the course of the next four hours into the wee hours of the morning I designed and redesigned the tail. By about 3AM, it was done. I had “NOOCCAR” built into the tail and designed the asperand myself. Donna, her brother and her mother liked it. Suddenly this feeling came over me that this was the design I’d been waiting for and I was ready. I was giddy as I went to bed.

I called Shannon and set up an appointment for the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. All the while I kept asking my brother what he was going to get, and he just kept shrugging and telling me he’d be ready. He’s a man of few words so I had no idea. Meghan was scheduled to work until noon, so she would meet me and Jaime in Southside. When Jaime picked me up at my in-laws, he looked down at my design and said “that’s what I’m getting”. If I had any idea he was planning on getting the same tattoo as me, then I would’ve designed him a generic tattoo. I was completely touched that he wanted to get the same tattoo as me but the “@nooccar” built into it wouldn’t do it for him. I showed him the design closer and he agreed we needed to change that.

Meghan arrived as Jaime and I walked into Jester’s Court to meet with Shannon Daley. I showed her my design and explained that we wanted change the tail. She agreed and went to draw up the patterns. At the eleventh hour Meghan decided a touchup wasn’t significant enough; this was a gift from me to her and she needed to do something special and new. Meghan had a Celtic swirling circle design that she came in with, and I asked her what that represented for her. She went on for several minutes explaining the significance, and I liked her ideas. It was time to begin and we made Meghan go first since she was the youngest. She wasn’t too thrilled.

Shannon set up the workstation and got out a huge padded table out from behind a row of arcade machines. Meghan stripped off her boots and climbed onto the table. She was worried about the pain, but as Shannon began to tattoo the swirls onto Meghan’s leg Meghan was surprised by the lack of pain. She was ok with it. While we waited, Jaime played Galaga and I shot these and other photos. Meghan’s tattoo took about 90 minutes because the swirls were continual. When it was completed, Meghan was thrilled with Shannon’s work.

Jaime wanted this tattoo on his left leg near where he had another tattoo from the artwork inside of L7’s Bricks are Heavy CD cover. I had suggested the right leg so we could get them in the same area, but he was set on the left. This later surprised me because we had Shannon put them in the same exact place but on balanced ankles, which worked well in the end. Jaime did very well and his work didn’t take long at all. Shannon explained that continual circles and clean lines of Meghan’s swirls. Jaime finished up and I loved the work she did on it.

When I got to the tattoo shop, the smells came back to me. The ointment, the soaps, etc… and it all came back to me. When it was my turn I lay down and prepared my self. I remember the biting needles and the shading/coloring hurting a little more than the line art. I won’t lie, the bottom of my tattoo hurt near the top of my Achille’s Heel where it was more tender, but it wasn’t anything unbearable. Jaime’s tattoo and my tattoo both took half the time of Meghan’s because they weren’t symmetrical. Shannon went over the care instructions with the three of us, she finished my tattoo which turned out wonderful, and then we thanked her.

Below are some of my favorite shots of the day.

Meghan shot this photo as Shannon prepped my tattoo.

I love the composition here of me, Meghan and Michael Patrick, another tattooist working that day.

Shannon as she began my tattoo.

Shannon finishing up Jaime’s tattoo.

Shannon working on Meghan’s tattoo.

The other evening I was “hanging” with my family while Donna and Claire were off at her parent’s, and my father was having his annual Christmas dinner for the girls in his office. Partners are strictly forbidden unless you are a part-owner and because of his own self-imposed rule, his own son wasn’t permitted to attend. I was with my mother in South Side near the restaurant already due to shopping but I wasn’t allowed because then the girls would bitch about their boyfriend/best friend/father of their child who couldn’t come along. I told my mother it was all ok, and that I was going to walk the streets of South Side since it was my old stomping grounds. She gave me her bus pass and sent me on my way. If you know South Side this next part’ll make sense. If not, that’s why Google made Street View.

I walked from the Hot Metal Bridge area near Cheese Cake Factory down to Primanti’s at 19th Street. Primanti’s is a staple of Pittsburgh, and I got my favorite Pastrami no tomatoe add egg extra cheese and a Yeungling. Yum! I wolfed down the food, pulled my hat over my ears and kept going. It was dark out, and I had called my sister to meet me after work near the mall by my parent’s where the trolley terminated. At 14th street I walked into The Beehive where I use to spend almost every evening when I was in grad school and some years in high school; it’s changed a bit since then, but it always has memories for me. I got a coffee to warm up, shot some photos of my DSLR shoved in my coat, and walked outside. I stopped across the street where there use to be a bank that was now a bar. After 20 minutes of waiting and tweeting from my phone to record my journey, the bus came. I flashed my mum’s pass and road down towards Station Square.

After jumping from the bus, I ran across East Carson to the trolley. I shot some photos while waiting 10 minutes for the trolley to the Village. Then I went to send another message, but no phone. Uh oh. No PHONE! I checked my pockets. Got my iTouch, point&shoot, wallet, bus pass, Canon, scraps of paper, gloves, and hat. NO PHONE! Trolley came. I didn’t get on. I let it pass by me, and I retraced my steps back across the busy road, looking for a smashed BlackBerry in the road. Nothing. I looked at everyone on a phone and wonderered. Then I walked back up the trolley ramp. The next one came. I got on. I’d given up. I sat down and waited for my stop 20 minutes later.

Across the aisle was a lady chatting away on the phone about only God knows what, and when she hanged up I asked if I could use her phone to call my ride. She agreed but then her stop came up as it rang. I handed it back, and thanked her. I sat there wondering if my sister, Meghan, would be there to pick me up in the cold winter night. I finally walked to the front of the train and asked a man if I could use his BlackBerry; he agreed.

I called Meghan, she answered, and immediately said “they found your phone!” My heart lept. I told her I was close and almost there. She said she’d been waiting. I jumped from the trolley after wondering if I had to shell out hundreds for a new phone and climbed into her car. She told me the bus driver had my phone and it’d be at the Collier Garage after midnight. I asked where the hell the Collier Garage was. Meghan said it was in Bridgeville, which wasn’t far from my parent’s new place. I texted my mum from Meghan’s phone and since she use to live in the area, said she’d drive me later.

At 11:40pm we left for Bridgeville and I walked into the Port Authority Transit dispatch at midnight with my ID card. As the man handed over my phone, he said no one usually picked up lost and found that quickly and he wished me a Merry Christmas.

Yes Virigina, There still are nice people in this world.

Since my parents bought a new house and had more room and since we’d not spent Christmas Eve night at my parent’s in years, it was time. Earlier in the day Donna and Claire met us there while I pretended to help my sister cook dinner. Later after dinner, Claire didn’t want to go to bed. She was waiting for Santa, and all I was waiting for her was for her to fall asleep sdo I can drag a crapload of presents out of my parent’s basement to put around the tree. This is the first year where I had to keep two things in mind. 1) Claire would recognize if grandparent and Santa gifts came in the same wrapping paper, and 2) we cannot put any presents under the tree before she goes to sleep on Christmas Eve.

As I always expect with Claire, she never wants to go to sleep. And since it was Christmas Eve, she was even more excited than usual. By 11:00pm everyone was way sick of waiting for her to go down by herself and something had to be done. Uncle Jaime, my brother, decided to climb into the attic and take matters into his own hands.

Over the couch, through the roof, suddenly Santa and his reindeer were loudly walking around on the roof, preparing to come down one of my parent’s chimneys. (Yes, I know she’s smart, so I kept one chimney/fireplace free from a fire that night incase she asked!) Claire, sitting on the couch full dressed, looked towards the ceiling, looked around at her people and bolted to the bedroom. Donna followed her into the bedroom, as Claire grabbed her PJs and threw herself onto the bed.

“Mama, help me get changed! I need to go to sleep now! Santa’s here!” She screamed as she stripped her clothes before throwing herself into bed.

Thank you, Uncle Jaime.

I always say my favorite part of the Christmas holiday is when the tires bounce down onto the Pittsburgh tarmac, and you know what? I didn’t even notice this time. No reason, really. It just wasn’t such a huge, relaxing deal. Maybe it’s because I have a million things on a list of things to do when I have time to do things. I don’t know.

Claire, after being shy girl lying on the airport floor, was glued to her Papa the first day in town, and we weren’t scheduled to see my family until Sunday. I told my mother to pick us up early so I could drop my MacBook Pro off at Apple for some minor repairs while I was on break and had access to other computers. She agreed and I went to bed Saturday evening in my brother-in-laws awesome Posture-pedic king size bed. Sunday morning came about 12 hours later as I really needed some sleep after last week.

Claire, her Uncle Danny and Papa were in the backyard in the 6+ inches of fresh powder, so I grabbed my camera, gloves, and ski pants before joining them for a short bit to shoot some photos before getting ready to see my family for the day.

Claire mentioned wanting an igloo, and I didn’t even know that she knew what an igloo was let alone that she wanted one. As I said, the snow was really powdery but anytime you tell Uncle Danny he can’t do something, he tries to do it. Especially when it involves jumping off cliffs and driving through rivers. This was no different. He wanted to build Claire an igloo so we go to work. We shoveled snow off the grass into a huge pile, scrapped it from the sidewalk, and filled recycle bins with snow from other parts of the yard to make it higher. Then Uncle Danny began to throw his weight against it while I suggested a watering can to make it wetter. We sprinkled water all over it, attached it like beached whales, and then began scooping it out. We got it to a point where Claire could get into it fully if she bent her legs, but of course she refused to do that. She did look up for a few photos, and then pulled herself from the igloo. She announced she was bored, hungry and cold. Papa immediately took her inside, while Uncle Danny and I admired our handiwork—two hours later and as my mother was scheduled to arrive.

I don’t mind traveling for work, and I enjoy flying around the country (for the most part), but being away from Claire is hard. When she was two months old she flew to PA while I took a trip down the east coast. This was a little hard because she was so new, but her mother was with her so that helped. In 2007 Donna and I flew to Europe without Claire. I’d been away from her for a few days before flying to Berlin that year, and by the time I hit Vienna I missed her so much. I can dig a day here or long weekend there, but once again she’ll be off to PA this summer to see her grandparents. I will literally be away from my daughter for 21 days: 3 weeks. Yes, I realize she will be around her grandparents and family and busy, and I will be super busy myself but it’s still hard. I hope to talk to her a few times, and I hope to Skype her. I will have to get my mother-in-law access to my ning to post photos of Claire so we can all enjoy them, too. Things’ll work out but it’s always a little disconcerting. In another decade she can just stay with us during this time and all will be fine.

Ok I’ll admit. I am from Pittsburgh. I love my hometown. It’s unique and has a history unlike anywhere I’ve been. I am also a Steeler’s Fan. Some years we’re really good and other years we’re just good. We’re everywhere across the Earth and space. I now live in Arizona. Home of the Cardinals. Unless you live under a rock right now, you know there’s a football game this weekend. I remember reading about the Ravens fans who visited Pittsburgh for the AFC conference championship at Heinz Field, and the newspapers were interviewing them to ask about how Pittsburghers had been treating them. The Baltimore fans were surprised that Steeler fans were so nice and cordial. The Steelers went on to beat the Ravens and advance to the Superbowl. So did the Cardinals. The Cardinals hadn’t been to a championship game in 61 years and they’ve made it. That’s awesome. I am very happy for the Cardinals.

I’ve been in Arizona for almost a decade now. My wife and I love our new town (weather not withstanding!), and everything is wonderful here. Until two weeks ago.

Now I wear the same Steeler’s Gear I’ve worn all along, but people treat me differently. Friends and colleagues poke good natured fun at me and my team. I ignore them. Some of them I know have been Cardinals fans for years, and others have been Cardinals fans for minutes. It got worse. Less good natured. People I barely know saying crass things to me. Then complete strangers. People on the streets. I deleted most of the comments from Facebook and rarely retorted back. Last night after a movie I walked through the parking lot to my truck to the jeers “Steelers Suck” from a truck full of men. I was alone. It was almost midnight. Not fun. Today I take my kid to a garage sale, and the owner of the house turns to his wife “Look a Steeler’s Fan. Go get our gun.” I was wife my friggin’ kid. I get to the car dealer. The manager sees my shirt, and he says “For Steelers’ Fans we charge double”. Then he chuckles. Ok, I am done with it.

If you’ve been a Cardinals fan for years, then I’m happy for you. Good luck tomorrow. If you’ve been a Cardinals fans for a coupe of months, since they’ve gotten good, or only for 2 weeks, then shut the hell up. Don’t give me crap about my team, because no matter if the Steelers win or lose tomorrow, we have one of the best teams in the NFL. We have decades worth of wonderful fans across the globe who are proud of who we are and what we represent. We have a family owned team who never sold out and less coaches turnover than any other team ever. We (usually) hear great things about our team from complete strangers everywhere we go. The Steelers have won more Superbowls than everyother team except the Cowboys and 49ers, and that might change tomorrow. I can hope, pray, and cheer, but I am not out there making crass jokes to any Cardinal fan. And I am done hearing it.

It seems that every Christmas someone ends up at Urgent Care. Claire went last year and again this year for coughing, but this year they thought she developed a cough because it was cold and snowy and then got really warm really quickly. They said she wasn’t contagious and to have a nice day.

The next morning I woke up congested. That was 3 1/2 days ago. By this morning I thought I was going to die. I was completely congested, my head throbbed, and my nose wouldn’t stop running. I grabbed my clothes and headed straight to urgent care. The doctor took one look at me and told me she hoped I had no where to be. My temperature was 103.6 and my blood pressure was 140/90. She did a strep throat culture and x-rayed my chest, before she had the nurse come in and put an IV in. She said she’d prefer me to go nowhere until they brought down both my fever and my blood pressure. They ran an IV of Toridol and I laid there and slept for an hour.

Later she came back in and told me I had pneumonia and a sinus infection. Well, no crap. Anyone could tell me that I had a sinus infection. But the pneumonia was news to me. Damnit. I feel terrible, but Toridol sure helped. I headed to Walgreen’s to buy like 20 different drugs before driving to my parent’s house. Now I sit here on their couch waiting for Penn State to kill USC in the Rose Bowl.

Sometime in the early 1990s during high school I began hanging out at the Beehive Coffeehouse on East Carson Street in the Southside of Pittsburgh. Some of my earlier memories were when it was only one store front wide (now it’s three), and we’d play Galaga in the back room by the leather couch. The female manager had blonde and pink hair, and she’d sleep back there. This must’ve been about later 1990 or early 1991. I know this because I could drive then, and I had my blue Dodge Colt. I remember several months where I’d make sure I came down here once a day even if it was just to grab a coffee and play some video games. In the summer, the doors would be open and it’d be muggy as hell here.

After high school I went away to Penn State , but none of the State College coffee houses could do this place justice. I would return on weekends and summers, and always be here. I knew the people from the locals who hung out here to the baristas (some of whom are still here!). I remember in 1992 seeing Jason Szalla hang work he did at Baldwin High School from the ceiling in the Beehive. I remember the different people who’d flirt with each other, and some of the girls who flirted with me. One of whom, in the late 1990s, I still know. Alicia talked to me one night for hours. She was a Fordham student who loved iguanas and worked at VH1. We still know her, and she is still here.

I remember playing cards here through the mid-1990s. Spades was the game, and each night we’d have several tables going all at once. Elliot was a character, and we can to really enjoy his company. One guy we played with had to run off to not go to jail. I think his name was Fruit. An odd fellow. Another guy was just wild. Donna and I ruled the table by this time.

Occasionally famous people would walk in. I saw Patrick Stewart near the front one night, and another night I met Robert Downey Jr buying coffee. He suggested I read Wonderboys which they were filming nearby. I read it that night at a front table. The whole thing.

I remember grad school. The Beehive was the place to study. I’d walk across the 10th street bridge from Duquesne University, and it didn’t matter if it was -10 with the wind chill factor. I’d still do it. I would sit here and write, read, study. I remember bringing my first laptop down here for the first time.

By this time my mother was hanging out here too. Everyone called her Mum. Even the old people. She was everyone’s mother. The funny thing was when we, her biological children, called her “mum” no one knew we were really the children. Jaime got in with Scott and Z the owners, and he followed them from project to project. I buried myself in books when I had to study and cards when I had some time off.

In the summer of 1998, I was in the Beehive when Donna returned from school for the summer. We were just friends then and nothing was going on. I told her to meet me at the Beehive. I still remember sitting in a large red booth ten feet from where I sit when she came in the door. That was May. By July we were back together, and we spent much of that summer in the Beehive.

By fall I was student teaching at Mt Lebanon High School and Donna was back at Lockhaven for her senior year. One night we went out to Dee’s, and I got drunk. I decided to head to the Beehive to sit it off and get some coffee. One of my students walked in! Not the best idea (although I was of age).

By summer of 1999 Donna and I were engaged and moved to Arizona. Alicia came to the wedding; she framed shots of the Beehive for us. Black and whites of some things we will never forget.

Since then, the first few years we’d try to come in. Slowly, it was shifting. We knew less people. The building expanded to a second nonsmoking room (perfect since it was always smokey in here!). My Mum stopped coming and Meghan moved to Colorado.

Until today now I could not tell you the last time I was here. 2005? 2004? People grow and change, but this place. This place stays the same. It’s always for those memories. Today I sit here. Christmas 2008 wondering when I will be back here. Maybe next Christmas (have no trips planned to PA until then), or maybe it won’t be until Claire is older and I can tell her the stories. We will see.

Merry Christmas. Here’s my father singing O Holy Night in Karaoke. LOL.

Untitled from Devon Adams on Vimeo.