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July 7th, 2040
The sun rose over Beverly Hills California, ready to be a scorcher for a typical summer's day, on the west Coast of the United States. However, this particular sunrise was very special for the former drummer of the Beatles, Ringo Starr.
Today had been highly anticipated by those who know and love this man, and especially for those who just simply know of him!
Here was a gentleman, a British Knight, and legendary rock and roll star for the past eighty years!
He was also a man who arose out of his bed with the help of a care attendant. A strong young man would assist the elder to his wheelchair and prepare the prestigious one for the upcoming event.
Ah, the glory days were long gone! Well mostly.
Now there were usually just good days and bad ones, but the former Beatle was determined today would definitely be a glorious day.
Perhaps his final one.
Which the man had so many, in a way, this ending was sort of a relief.
A retirement what have you, from the extravagant things, like a birthday being a big deal.
To be honest, the man has had celebrations of his birth, that were more extravagant than most high-end weddings.
The majority of people only have a handful of such celebrations, and some have nothing in comparison, as life was only meant to give a person so many of these occasions.
Certainly not a yearly occurrence!
This made letting go feel rather peaceful. It was similar to giving up his nasty habits and adulterous affairs. Here the man was undergoing another process of removing something from his life, which once gave him joy, but has passed its course.
Starr didn’t see this process as losing out in ending these over-the-top celebrations. Instead, he saw the new change as a positive gain.
In contrary of those glamourous parties with strangers and dinners with food he could no longer eat, the great- great- grandfather would instead preserve such occasions for family and close friends.
The intimacy of such gatherings was becoming more alluring as his age progressed.
However, today was more than a last great event in the oldest Beatles life, but as this position of the sun marked a milestone, which few people ever live to experience.
Today, Ringo Starr, the sickly lad from Liverpool, was officially a hundred years old!
The very idea was mind boggling to the brand-new centenarian, as he fully absorbed his three-digit age.
Holy shit! How the hell did this happen? Crossed the elder’s mind as he stared at his aged face through the looking glass.
However, the one-hundred-year-old didn’t have long to ponder, before his phone began ringing.
Fortunately, the British Knight had some kind of fancy technology that screened his calls, and the first person allowed to make contact was an old friend and former bandmate, Paul McCartney.
Paul had recently celebrated his own birthday not too long ago. The cute one of the old group, was now a young ninety-eight-year-old.
Once a dark-haired baby face heartthrob, was now a white-haired old man, with a long chin, and a box face.
The bassist of Ringo’s former band was the stark contrast from his wild youth, as the great-grandfather appeared through the video chat.
This new format was a 3D image, projecting from a mere sticker on the wall, linked to Starr’s phone. Technology has gone so far, the man who was birthed in 1940 felt like he was on another planet from the one he was born!
“Good morning!” The white-haired man with stubble upon his chin appeared on the Apple device. The bloody thing was even a more fancy image than its predecessor of just a year ago.
The 3D projection was flawless, and the coloring lifelike.
Too lifelike! It appeared that Ringo had a decapitated Paul McCartney on his wall. Just a floating disembodied head of the lead singer could be seen in the projective image.
“And happy birthday!” The caller further added, while the slightly younger of the two fixated his gaze upon his old friend, through his own 3D live video of the drummer.
Ringo causally allowed his wheelchair to be seen during these little video calls, as long as he was dressed and groomed properly.
Starr smiled in response. Seeing Paul always put him in a good mood.
“Thank you, my friend.” The slightly older man replied. “I really appreciate your call.”
“Well, I appreciate you being here.” McCartney responded in jest, but there was a sting of truth to it.
For the past twelve months, poor Paul had been silently struggling with the loss of an old friend, and almost brother-in-law, Peter Asher.
The bassist of the Beatles had been engaged to the departed man’s older sister, many, many years ago, but even though the engagement was called off, Paul and Peter remained very close friends.
The younger Asher died the previous year. His older sister Jane, Paul’s former fiancé, passed just six months after. This also saddened the caller, though he didn’t want to burden his third wife Nancy with details, but his old friend he reached out to understood.
Yet, at their age, friends and family don’t last long. Just recently, Paul’s brother Mike McCartney died.
The death was expected.
Poor Mike suffered from numerous medical complications, and Paul was by his brother’s side as he passed.
Still, he was the last of Paul’s birth family left, and now McCartney was the only one remaining alive. Even his much younger stepsister Ruth, has been gone more than ten years already.
“How are you holding up?” the drummer politely inquired.
“I’m alright.” McCartney said, while making sure no part of his wheelchair was within the camera’s view.
Ringo knew what his friend was up too, and well aware of the rolling chair. The prideful Paul McCartney would never admit to where he was sitting.
Yet Starr now required a walker, which he hated, but his balance wasn’t right anymore. He used the wheelchair for the early morning, when his equilibrium was at its worst. Still the drummer was trying to improve himself back to the cane.
Although his doctors weren’t hopeful about the idea, and even suggested his condition would put him in this chair permanently.
“You know, life never remains still.” Paul lamented, while thinking about his grandchildren from his youngest daughter Beatrice, who were already in primary school, along with his great grandchildren from Mary and Stella.
The man had so many descendants it was hard for the ninety-eight-year-old to keep track of them all.
“Will I be seeing you this evening?” Ringo suddenly asked about his friend's attendance at his birthday celebration. “They’re putting on a whole show in me honor.” The Liverpool accent slipped out.
This brought a smile to the face of the caller, despite his recent loss.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The talking head proclaimed. “However,” Paul began, biting his lower lip. “Are you really going to go through with that promise you made, if you lived to be a hundred?” The youngest living member of the old group wanted to know.
“Well, is anyone still talking about it?” Starr inquired, as he shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair.
“They mentioned it on the morning show.” Paul informed his friend. “Everyone is wondering if you’re going to go through with it.” McCartney added. “My great grandchildren have been seeing the story pop up on the social media platforms.”
Now the blue eyes of the drummer rolled up in frustration. He had made a stupid promise to a cute little blonde-haired reporter, that he would do this thing, only if he lived to be a hundred. Starr was eighty-eight at the time, with no expectations of living so long.
Twelve years later, this promise was brought up, and there was no getting out of it.
“Well, then I suppose I will.” The centenarian submitted to his fate.
McCartney’s eyes widened from hearing the news.
“You haven’t done anything like that in years.” The white-haired head brought up. “You were the only one of us who even gotten one.
“Oh, I thought I heard you were getting one too, when you turn a hundred.” Ringo teased his friend with a smile.
“No, but you can get another one for me when it’s my birthday, two years from now.” Paul teased back causing the pair to laugh.
“Well, if I’m going to do this thing, I better call Zak.” Starr simply replied.
“Yes, and I’m seeing Beatrice and her boys today, before going to your party.” The caller brought up his youngest daughter and her family, as his excuse to end the call.
“Will I see you at six?” The one with a birthday party wanted to know.
“I’ll be there.” The bassist of the former band promised. Then with a warm goodbye and a heartfelt “I love you,” from each man, the call ended.
Immediately afterwards, Ringo called his eldest son Zak.
The seventy-four-year-old no longer drove himself but agreed to accompany his father as the former Beatle agreed to keep the promise he had publicly made.
When Zak arrived with the hired car, his father came out slowly with his walker. Instantly the able-bodied son leapt from the vehicle, to walk by his father’s side.
“You know this would have been a lot quicker if you used the chair.” Zak noted, as his father watched each step he made towards the car.
“I’m not paying no bloody physical therapist to come five days a week, for me to sit in that bloody chair!” The elder of the two snapped at the thought of his wheelchair.
However, Zak just laughed.
“That’s the spirit dad!” The son chuckled at his father’s response. Then Zak helped the centenarian in the back seat of the car and joined him on the other side.
The gray colored vehicle was well on its way, and stuck in traffic, when Starr looked his son over.
“Now you’re sure this is a good place?” Ringo asked, looking into his son's blue eyes.
“Of course, Dad!” Zak assured. “It’s the same place I took Luna when she became old enough.” The son said, bringing up his youngest daughter, who was in university already.
“Well, that’s good.” The elder of the two noted.
“You aren’t nervous?” The adult son wanted to know.
“I guess I am, a little.” His father confessed.
“Do you want me to hold your hand?” The man who would be seventy-five in September, playfully teased his father. His dad was already a quarter century old when the eldest son was born.
It was incredible the man was still here, living that life span three times over.
Ringo just gave his son a look, causing the younger of the pair to laugh.
“I’m kidding,” Zak assured. “but I would if you wanted me to.” He further explained. “This is very brave, what you are doing.” The son added.
“I’ll be fine.” Starr insisted. “I’ve done this before.” Then he paused to twittle his fingers across his lap. “It’s just been awhile.”
“Well, I’ll still be there,” The son promised, “in case you change your mind.” Those other blue eyes added.
The aged father was forced to sigh with a defeated smile. Zak was right, the elder was nervous. What the drummer was about to do was simply outrageous, but so was living to a hundred.
Yes, Ringo was going through with this!
So, the rest of the ride was quiet, until the car pulled into a parking lot, at an open store front strip.
There was a tavern as the business residing at the first corner of the establishment, and a hair salon with a large pink sign, marketing brightly, at the corner shop at the end.
In between the two larger shops, there were three smaller stores.
A nail salon was next to the hair salon, clearly benefiting from each other, in the shared clientele.
The tavern was also beside an establishment, which aligned with its customer base. A convenient store, which sold drinks, snacks, and cigarettes, closing right after its neighbor.
“Tainted Skin,” read in black calligraphy on a purple sign, above the shop, in the very center of the five-studio strip.
“So, this is the place.” Starr observed, staring at the posters of artwork on the store front windows.
“It is,” Zak answered bluntly. “but I assure you; Tainted Skin is the best tattoo parlor in town.” Then the son gazed over his father.
“You don’t have to go through with this.” The younger man reminded the rock and roll star.
Ringo didn’t answer or move. He just appeared to be thinking, as his eldest child spoke. So, Zak continued.
“How about we get a temporary tattoo.” He suggested. “No one would be the wiser.”
“No, no, no…” the father dismissed with a shake of his hand. “I promised I would do this, and I’m going to. I have nothing to be afraid of. It’s not like this is going to ruin me career.” His Liverpool dialect slipped out again.
Zak just laughed.
“You know old man?” The son teased. “You never cease to amaze me.” He added while still laughing, as he hopped out of the car, only to go to the other side, to help his father to his feet.
Slowly and carefully, the pair made their way to the eccentric business. Ringo managed up two steps, and soon was in the freezing cold air-conditioning younger people loved.
Knowing his father well, Zak provided his elder a jacket, which was immediately zipped up.
“We can put a heater in his room.” A female voice suddenly spoke up unseen.
Starr abruptly turned to face the voice, which was close in the small business.
There before the famous man was a six-foot-tall woman, in leather pants, and a bra for a shirt.
“Good to see you, Daphne.” Zak announced, giving the woman taller than him, a hug.
Daphne was a beautiful name, unfortunately in Ringo’s opinion, her head was shaved, except for some front hairs, dyed green of course, took away from any beauty she could possess.
This freakish hair style was accompanied by three nose piercings, eight eyebrow studs, a little silver ball under her purple painted lips, and a purple crystal in her belly button, attached through a metal bar in her navel.
All that, and the woman was covered in tattoos, going all the way up her neck. Her arms were filled with a mixture of mystical creatures, like fairies and unicorns, along with different cultures symbolism, going from Europe to Asia.
In the 1960s, she’d be a sideshow freak. Reserved for the circus, along with other people with oddities.
Ringo tried to smile freely, as his son hugged the strange woman, who was a celebrity herself. The 1960s rock and roll legend had heard she had tattooed the biggest names currently topping the charts.
Starr had no idea who any of those new artists were anymore. Even his grandchildren stopped listening to the new music coming out. It was all just too different from what he knew growing up, the elderly man simply couldn’t relate.
When the Beatles started out, the four of them were groomed properly. Their clothes and hairstyles matched. They tried to look identical, really. People just loved a matching group back then.
The lads always had to look clean and wholesome. Getting a pierced ear was too taboo for the early years, however, it was him and his little group who helped pioneer this breakage of the conformity which gave these men their stardom.
They went further than a single pierced ear. The fab four grew their hair long, both upon their heads and their faces.
Once the group discovered LSD, the Beatles embraced the hippie culture, and all its wild styles.
Then in the 1970s, cut up pants became all the rage. Hell, his own kids loved the style. However, Ringo saw the look as impractical. Why ruin good jeans, by cutting them up so your legs are cold, made absolutely no sense to him.
Then in the 1980s, big hair was all the rage, and although this fad started long ago, gender bending became huge.
Annie Lennox with her short bright orange hair, wearing a suit, and all these popular male head banger bands, wearing more makeup and hair spray than their groupies, made the 1980s the most androgynous decade as of yet.
Things flipped around in the 1990s, with the popular grunge look taking over, along with the rise in rap music.
Now women had shaved heads, men wore dresses, and everyone had piercings and tattoos.
“Happy Birthday!” Daphne then announced. Right after she finished hugging Zak, she turned her attention to her new client. “I heard you’re a hundred years old today!” The feminine voice said sweetly, in contrast to her looks.
“Yes.” The British Knight answered, finding himself feeling rather coy around the new acquaintance.
The freaky looking woman seemed to pick up on the elderly man’s discomfort, as she studied him with her face covered in strange makeup and self-inflicted mutilations.
“You know Zak,” The lady began. “I think my former apprentice Noel, would be a better match for your dad.”
“Apprentice?” Ringo spoke up now. “I don’t want a student. I want someone who’s experienced.”
“Former apprentice.” The business owner corrected. “She graduated.” Daphne said, as she spun her left arm around, showing its back.
There stained deep within the skin of the toned triceps, was a detailed dragon, almost three dimensional on how it was drawn.
“To graduate from my apprenticeship, you have to successfully tattoo me.” The tall woman explained. “And for me to allow someone to give me a tattoo I can’t regularly see, is the ultimate act of trust I can give, and I’m not disappointed.”
“Dad,” Zak then spoke. “you’re not looking to do something elaborate, are you?” The ex-Beatles son inquired.
“No.” Starr answered immediately. “I don’t want this to take too long.’
“Noel will be perfect.” The head artist insisted. “You’ll love her.”
Before Ringo could think of a response, Zak was standing at his side again, and Daphne had walked down a narrow corridor towards the back end of the establishment. At the third door, the strange woman stopped in front of the makeshift room and naturally knocked.
The ex-Beatle could hear the door creak and see the brighter light peering through the open barrier, shining up the elongated room the mostly bald woman had come.
Then the business owner disappeared upon entering the hidden space, as the light wooden door closed.
It was then Ringo found he was squeezing his son’s hand, who returned the affection, with a warm smile.
“You’re one of the strongest men I know.” The blue eyes of the Beatles eldest child assured.
Starr smiled a bit teary eyed. This whole ordeal wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but having Zak with him at this moment made it special.
Then the door opened again, and Daphne waltzed out, with a much shorter woman behind her. The taller woman hindered the view of the other, until the pair reached the front of the shop. Then like a long feather of a fan, the giant lady stepped aside, revealing a petite lass, who had to be Noel.
Carefully Ringo reviewed his new tattoo artist, as the young lady lingered in the doorway. She seemed a bit shy.
The new girl wasn’t bald, thank God!
Rather the lovely lass adorned a short hairstyle, with large curls surrounding her round head. The young ladies hair had been clipped high above her long slender neck, highlighting her pretty face.
Ringo immediately recognized the girls hairstyle. It was a popular look, reminisce to the 1950s, when the one hundred year old was a teenager.
The young woman appeared to be in her early twenties, similar to the age of the young female reporter which got him into this mess.
To be honest, Starr thought the new tattoo artist was cute, even beautiful. He would have definitely asked her out in his teens. She looked a little bit like Betty Page and Betty Boop, in one.
Noel, which Daphne referred to the young woman, had large brown eyes, and tan skin. The woman was either Hispanic, or biracial. Her skin was light enough to reveal a few tattoos she had in a more appealing manner.
There was a cute little monarch butterfly above her right elbow and a pretty rose bracelet, wrapped around her left wrist. It went nicely with the red 1950s style blouse she wore with denim trousers.
Which had no holes!
Neither Starr nor Zak could deny, Noel was already a better fit. Compared to her boss, this girl was a princess to the dragon lady running the show.
“Nice to meet you, Sir.” The lass said shyly. Clearly, she was more of a fan of the famous drummer than her employer. Noel seemed to enjoy mimicking the mid 20th century styles, with her own little twist.
“If you like, I can show you my room, and we can discuss what you would want to get tattooed.” The recent tattoo graduate suggested.
Like her boss, Noel’s voice was soft, sweet, and feminine, but she also had the look to match such a pretty tone.
Taken by surprise with the change in his artist, the elderly drummer nodded, and followed the girl inside her room.
Inside the ladies private tattoo parlor, Starr found the walls lined with posters of this girl’s art, but also pictures of artist of the 20th century.
Cyndi Lauper with bright orange hair from her “Girls just wanna have fun,” video, graced the wall, along with Noel, in a matching costume. She definitely made a cute Cyndi. There was the famous Marilyn Monroe photograph, where the long deceased actress's skirt flew up from the street vent.
Noel emulated this image perfectly. Except for the added nose ring. The girl had her likeness with the match of Dianna Ross, Jackie Kennedy, Mae West, and Betty Page.
“You’re quite the model.” Ringo noted, as the elders blue eyes gazed across her enclosed space.
The young lady just laughed.
“I have always been obsessed with the 20th century.” Noel explained, as she helped her client to the chair. “Even though I was born eighteen years afterwards.” She added with a girlish laugh, which delighted her client.
“I was fifty-nine when the year 2000 came about.” Starr reminisced. “I turned sixty that year.” He added, realizing that was forty years ago, and how young that age really was. He didn’t even need the cane back then, let alone that blasted walker or that bloody chair, as the musician referred to his mobility devices.
Noel gave the elder a warm smile.
“It must have been incredible seeing the world change.” The young woman observed, as she adjusted the heater in the room, then gazed her brown eyes upon the frail one hundred year old in her care.
“Is this warm enough?” Noel asked, ready to bring the nob up higher if needed.
“This should be fine.” The former Beatle acknowledged, as he opened the jacket his son gave him. To his surprise his tattoo artist helped him undress to his short sleeve shirt.
The removal of the outer layer of clothes revealed Ringo’s older tattoos, right above his elbow on each of his inner arms.
“Oh I see you’ve been tattooed before.” The feminine voice noted, as the woman in her twenties studied first Ringo’s lotus flower on his left arm, and the star and moon upon his right.
“Yes, a long time ago.” Starr noted. “I can hardly recall the experience.” The elder confessed.
“Well that’s because your mind must be full of greater memories.” Noel spun the man’s words around positively.
“Yes that, and…” The senior added. “I have about ten years of me life I can’t recollect. Back then I was heavy into the party scene. I couldn’t even remember playing with the Beach Boys in The Bahamas.”
“Oh wow, I loved the Beach Boys!” The accompanying female declared.
“I was good friends with all of them.” The former Beatle replied with a ring of melancholy in his voice. The entire aforementioned group was dead. All of them! Not just the Beach Boys either. Ronnie and the Ronettes, the Monkees, Helen Shapiro, Eric Clapton and so many more, had passed on already.
Ringo, his last surviving bandmate Paul, along with a handful of others, were all that were left of the 1960s rock and roll era.
Hell, his time period was already well established in the history books, as the man as been around to witness the last hundred years. The former Beatle had lived to see the invention of the phone go from being attached to a wall, a car, your pocket, to the smart phones of today and computerized everything else.
Christ every blasted gadget was more complicated. From the car, to the coffee maker. Nothing was the same. Just like his departed bandmate George Harrison used to say.
“Nothing lasts forever.” The dead man’s voice rang in the drummers ear.
“So where were you thinking about getting tattooed?” Noel’s voice suddenly came, snapping the centenarian out of a depressive mood his mind was leading him to.
“I guess me left upper arm, by me shoulder.” The Liverpool accent slipped out again.
“All right.” The dark haired woman said, as she rolled her chair over to the man’s left side.
“What would you like?” She then asked. “I have books of designs you can look at.” Noel further offered.
“Well I wanted to keep this simple.” The man replied.
“Simple, and what else?” The twenty-two year old wanted to know.
Ringo found himself at a loss for words. Hell he hadn’t even thought about doing this, until he found out it was part of public discussion.
“I honestly don’t know.” The man admitted. Then he released a heavy sigh.
“You see,” The elder began. “a long time ago, a beautiful young woman asked me if I were planning on getting any more tattoos, and I foolishly told her only if I lived to be a hundred.” Starr relayed the story which brought him here to this wild shop.
“Well you don’t have to get a tattoo because of that.” The pretty lass advised. “I could draw something on you for the day, and it’ll wash off in the shower. She thoughtfully suggested.
“No, I want to keep my promise.” The senior explained. “At my age, my integrity is one of the few things I have control over.” He added with a weak smile.
“Alright then.” Noel replied. “You’re a hundred years old, what is it you want to say with this new tattoo?”
The drummer sighed again. That was the hard part. What did he really have left to say, that he didn’t sing about already.
“I’m not sure.” He answered, feeling bad he couldn’t be more helpful.
“You could get your children’s names written beautifully across the muscle.” The Betty Boop face suggested as an option.
“Naw…” the man dismissed. “My grandchildren, great grandchildren and even great-great-grandchildren would want their names on there too.” Then he laughed. “I have so many descendants, all of their names of would completely cover me.” The great-great-grandfather concluded.
“What about your wife?” the pretty lass brought up.
“She’s been gone quite a few years now.” He told the tattoo artist.
“I could create a beautiful memorial in her honor.” Noel gleefully offered, along with her pretty red painted smile.
“No, we already have a beautiful monument for her in my garden.” The old man lamented. He deeply missed his beloved Barbara. “I know I don’t want names or any memorials in my skin.” He further added. “Death will come for me soon enough.” The old man stated seriously, followed by a the heavy realization how true that was.
He really was on borrowed time.
Then the former Beatle felt someone squeezing his hand. Looking up, Starr’s blue eyes met the ladies brown ones, and he squeezed her hand back in appreciation.
“So what would you say to my generation and all who come after, when you inevitably do pass on?” Noel wanted to know.
“I would say…” The elder began. “That you should love one another. Take the time to reach out to your fellow human beings, and connect.
“Communicate with each other. Resolve your quarrels. There really is no need to fight one another like we always seemed to do.” Ringo seem to have concluded, but after a short pause he added something further.
“In the end, it’s better to be full of love than hate. I can’t think of a single fight I had that was worth the stress it caused…” Then the senior realized he was rambling, and stopped himself from talking further.
“So peace is your message.” The young girl observed of her client.
Noel smiled as those blue eyes widened from her comment.
“Well I have always promoted peace and love.” The musician noted.
“Then why not a peace symbol?” The tattoo artist suggested, eager to start her work.
“Yes, I guess that would be a good fit.” The senior agreed, relaxing back in the chair.
“How big do you want it?” Noel asked, as she pulled out a pad to draw on.
“I would like it to cover the muscle.” The man spoke of the bulge on the upper arm, right at the shoulder.
“Alright.” The artist said, as she made the sketch on the vanilla colored paper. “Would you like any designs inside the outline, or we could color it in.” She inquired.
“I’m not sure.” The one hundred year old acknowledged. “I want it colorful and trippy looking.”
“Like from the 1960s?” The Betty Boop looking woman filled in.
Ringo nodded in response. Noel seemed thrilled at the progress, and very quickly drew an outline on the appointed spot.
“I’m going to free hand the inside.” The lady explained, as she prepared her tattoo gun.
Quietly the Beatle watched the preparation, and just as the needle was about to touch Ringo’s skin, a sudden panic over came the man.
He loudly gasped from the chair, causing a halt to the process.
Immediately Noel handed her client a bottle of water, which the elderly musician down half in a single swig.
“Thank you.” Starr replied to the concern of his well-being by the fresh acquaintance.
“What happened?” the young woman asked concern.
“Nothing.” Ringo insisted. “Could you bring me son in here?” He then requested.
“Absolutely.” Noel replied as she leapt from her chair, and out of the makeshift room.
Moments later, the door open with Ringo’s eldest son Zak coming in first, and Noel behind him.
“Are you alright dad?” Zak asked as he pulled up a stool to sit at his father’s right side.
“I’m fine.” Ringo told him strongly. “I just want you here is all.” He said with a stubborn ring in his tone the son was all too familiar with.
Meanwhile Noel had seated herself by Ringo’s left side, ready to begin her work.
*Do you still want the tattoo?’ She asked with gloves on and her gun in her hand.
“Yes.” Starr answered, while looking at his son. Then the sound of the gun began to buzz, and with the noise, Ringo clasped Zak’s hand and held it tight, as the needles shot ink into his skin.
Zak simply smiled, while looking into his father’s eyes.
“I love you dad.” The almost seventy-five year old man said softly, which instantly brought Ringo peace, the very symbol currently being engraved in his skin.
“I love you too.” Ringo replied to his child, trying not to focus on the many needle pricks that were poking his arm. “I’m sorry you have to put up with me.” He further added, regretful of his physical dependency and short temper.
“I’d gladly put up with you for another hundred years.” Zak said, then the elderly man himself kissed his father upon his brow.
Yes, Ringo Starr promoted peace and love for the rest of his life, but at that moment it was his son’s love which brought him peace enough to get the tattoo. That mark on his skin always reminded the elder of that moment with his oldest boy, and this beautiful memory brought Ringo peace the rest of his life.