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Illustration by Drew Shannon
Seniors are either completely ignored or treated like children. Qualifying for seniors’ discounts is not something I was looking forward to and so turning 50 was my life’s nadir. I have distinct memories of that cold, rainy, miserable August day with many unfulfilled dreams and self-imposed expectations.
After that unforgettable experience, an inner voice told me that I needed to take control of my future. Thirteen years later, during a road trip with my son and his partner, I innocently promised to get a tattoo when I turned 65. I wanted to challenge myself to stay young at heart and this tattoo was going to be the beginning of that odyssey. Seemed simple enough at the time.
Many of us have made promises that we did not keep, but this one felt different. In my heart, it felt like the right thing to do. I am not a risk taker by nature, but this seemed like a risk worth taking.
I had lots of time – over 18 months to design a brilliant tattoo, the perfect design for my soon-to-be senior self. But what tattoo to choose and where to place it became almost daily obsessions. What should it represent? Should it be flamboyant or subtle, black or multicolored? Where should the tattoo be on my aging 65-year-old body? The traditionalist in me agonized over the decision.
I reflected on the times when I have found the most serenity in my life, and that has always been while I am outside birdwatching. This passion began in my youth growing up in Victoria. My mother loved to be out in nature and a family friend also introduced me to the wonders of the outdoors every weekend. I am happiest pretending to be a naturalist either in my backyard or while travelling around the world. But to be clear, I am a birdwatcher – not a serious birder and most certainly not an ornithologist.
However, the ability to pursue one’s passions often gets put on the back burner. Education, work, marriage and family all came along and took their rightful places in my life as I progressed from young adulthood to middle age. At 65, I hoped to be freer.
My close friends and family were incredulous when I mentioned that I was getting a tattoo. Many suggested a bird as the natural choice. Friends and family would ask naively, “What is your favourite bird?” which is a bit like asking someone to pick their favourite child.
The original idea to get a tattoo came in a moment of pure enlightenment when I looked back at my life journey. I connected all the threads of my past and had that “Aha!” moment. That happened again when I decided on a design.
A deadline has always been a great motivator for me, and eventually, I remembered the flags of my alma maters, the University of Victoria and McGill, as both have a bird on them. That bird that I was so happy to discover was the martlet, and it is not one that will be found on any birder’s life list. The martlet is an English heraldry symbol: a bird that has no feet, it does not land and always appears in flight. It looks like a swift, a member of the Apodiformes order, which means “footless” in Greek. It represents the constant quest for knowledge, learning and adventure. It also represents hard work and perseverance. Eureka! A fine message for my 65-year-old self that life is meant to be embraced no matter how old we may be. I had found the perfect tattoo!
I looked for a tattoo parlour that was clean and reputable and was referred to one, not five minutes from where I live. I had driven by it many many times but never imagined going inside as a client. I made an appointment for my 65th birthday.
When that day arrived, I fleetingly worried that I was making a big mistake, but I had made a promise to myself that I intended to keep. My son dropped me off, and the artist spent the next hour drawing a beautiful martlet on my left shoulder. Pain from the needle was less of an issue than the neck cramp from having to lay prone while the artist poked dye into my skin. As the indelible ink dried, all of my worries vanished.
The experience was profound in so many ways. I was proud of myself for doing something so outside of my comfort zone, forcing me to challenge my biases and face my own fears. The tattoo is large enough to get a reaction from friends and family but small enough not to attract too much attention. Reactions to my tattoo highlighted the generation gap: My nieces and my sons all said it was beautiful but a few from my generation said things such as, “Oh it is so big!” or “I would never get a tattoo!”
But I see the martlet, an ancient heraldic symbol, as an embodiment of my past, my present and my future. It reminds me to continue to live life as an adventure, to not let fear keep me from a challenge and to keep learning. With every birthday I set new challenges for the year. Being able to look forward to the next birthday is a joyous thing indeed. I plan to keep on doing so, until my martlet finally stops flying and lands.
Linda Slocombe lives in Calgary.