What I Learned While Strolling With Anny

Anny has several colorful tattoos adoring her little white skin. As you walk toward her and she’s wearing a summer skirt, you notice a walrus face looking at you from her knee.  The walrus is melancholy, with a sweeping mustache. If he spoke he’d sound like Eeyore, the donkey from Winnie the Pooh. 

I think he’s a little scary with his big old tusks and greenish flippers adoring her knee cap, but my Aunt Charlotte, Anny’s great aunt, raves about him. She wants to see the Walrus every time she sees Anny. The Walrus tattoo honors one of Anny’s friends. And even looks a little like him.  

The other day we walked down a summer Scranton Street and Anny said, “They’re staring at my Walrus. That happens all the time.” Maybe they’re just looking at Anny’s pretty legs, or appreciating Walrus art.

And maybe If we all had tattoos nobody would look twice at anybody. Or everybody would and we’d all appreciate each others art work and be friendly.

I can hear you saying, “If we all had tattoos there’d be one person who didn’t and then we’d all stare at her.” And we just might.

 An extremely obese friend said, “Once at the mall two girls walked by me. Once they were past the first girl said, “If I ever get that fat, shoot me.”  Mega-unkind staring.  

So, how about this? If you see me out and about, and my hair is all wild and I’m wearing purple Chuck Taylor’s, grin as you stare. Be kind while you gawk at me, or Anny, or at anybody. And we’ll be kind as we grin and stare right back.