I took my dad to get his first tattoo today. For a lot of people, that may sound odd, or trashy, or just wrong. My family are rural. We own livestock, rodeo, ride horses, and my dad is a cowboy. However, we are far from white trash. My parents raised us to be respectful, polite, open minded, and cultured. We were encouraged to read, love music and art, and explore the world around us. I'm very lucky in that way. My parents may not have always approved of me or my choices, but they supported me in the ones that were fundamentally me, while helping me through the decisions I made that were self destructive.

My father and I were never close while I was growing up. As an adult, we've come to respect and understand each other. Though we come from different worlds and mindsets, we somehow still seem to get and respect each other. He's supported my weird hair colors, piercings, tattoos, and being queer. While I may not have taken the path he'd have liked me to, he's respected me being me.

So, for him to want his first tattoo at the age of 59 and wanting me to find the place to have it done, and wanting me to take him, meant a lot to me. To spend a day with him...just us, was wonderful. The fact that he spent that afternoon in, what is kind of my world, is an experience that I won't forget. While it may sound trivial to some, today was a pretty amazing day and meant more to me than anyone will probably ever know...