San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)
I’LL ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT LOBLOLLY PINE TREE
In February 1988, in the front yard of a single-family home in Santa Ana, a soon-to-be dad planted a loblolly pine tree. His wife was in the yard with him, suggesting the best location to plant the sapling. They watered it and went back inside. Their baby was due to be born on July 27, 1988 — right in the middle of a beautiful Southern California summer. The tree, they hoped, would grow to provide shade and peace for their growing family. A symbol of life, this tree would celebrate the arrival of their first-born.
Loblolly pine trees are much more common in the southeastern United States. They are good for timber and are easy to care for. They can live for over 200 years and grow up to 2 feet per year.
Mom was nauseated from six weeks until the fourth month of pregnancy and had been remanded to bed rest due to starting labor pre-term. She got up from her recliner to watch Dad plant the tree and then went back to attempting to rest between contractions.
Strangely, the pine tree in the front yard did not grow. Despite Socal sunshine and regular watering, nothing seemed to be taking root.
On June 19, 1988, five weeks premature and with Mom’s epidural giving no relief, a boy was born. He was 5 pounds 10 ounces and spent the first week of life in an incubator. Feedings were exhausting for Mom, and the baby would projectile vomit everything he managed to eat. He couldn’t gain weight despite being nursed every hour.
Mom and Dad weren’t sure that their son would make it. They had a priest come to the house and baptize their baby in the living room, just in case.
They watered the tree with the remaining half-gallon of holy water from the baptism and they waited.
Eventually, the baby began to gain some weight. He was using a continuous positive airway pressure machine to help him breathe, and alarms went off every time he stopped breathing. Mom would made adjustments up to 20 times a day after helping him breathe again. It was draining. Mom noticed, though, that she had to adjust the chest braces on the machine — the baby was growing.
At 1 year, he was 18 pounds. And the tree in the front yard was growing, too. That baby was me.
Fast forward to 2007. I skipped class
at San Diego City College and went with my best friend to Avalon II in North Park. We had made an appointment earlier in the month to get our first tattoos, and I decided to go first. The artist asked me if he could use a new ink he had never tried before, a vibrant, almost neon, green. I was worried — what if the ink didn’t look as good as he thought it would? Did I want my first tattoo to be a practice session for this guy? But then I remembered that “this guy” was the legendary Dave Warshaw. If I couldn’t trust him, I couldn’t trust any artist. So I said yes. During a short bathroom and water break, my friend and I realized we didn’t know the tipping culture in tattoo world. Do you tip? And if so, how much? We called a friend who already had tattoos to ask. We felt a little silly, but we got the information we needed, paid our bills (with a 25 percent tip!) and were on our way. We were stoked.
I went home with some paper towels taped over my right bicep. I went to the kitchen and told my mom I wanted to share something with her. She looked worried but curious. She also seemed to know what I was going to tell her, with her mother’s intuition. “Sean, you didn’t get a tattoo, did you?”
I peeled back the paper towels, and there it was: a mix of greens, some brown, some black. A little streak of blood. My mom said it was beautiful and asked me what kind of moisturizer I needed for it and implored me to keep it out of the sun. She wanted to make sure I would take care of it properly.
My first tattoo was of a loblolly pine tree, like the one my parents planted in the yard in Santa Ana.
These trees are easy to take care of, and my inner bicep is as shielded from the sun as can be, so the tattoo version of my birth tree was no exception. I don’t know that I took care of it as well as my mother took care of me as a newborn, but after 15 years, the vibrant green still stands out.