Random THoughts
Random THoughts
>>Valley Patriot>> |
Mark Palermo
But it’s New Year’s again, and a proper time for looking back. In doing so, I would like to examine three distinct cultural phenomena: the art of the tattoo, the “disease” of nymphomania, and Lawrence’s old men’s taverns. This column will analyze these phenomena and trace their cultural evolution from yesteryear to the present. First, tattoos. Today’s youth tend to see the practice of tattooing as a norm-defying aesthetic of personal expression, or a bold statement of modern industrial primitivism. But tattoos and practices like scarification and piercing go back thousands of years. Joseph Campbell, in his studies of religious mythology, found that tattooing was a symbol of initiation for tribal men, and was almost always accompanied by excruciating pain or death-defying ordeals. In the streets of Lawrence where I grew up, a cityscape of old movie theaters, brick taverns and pool halls, tattoos were a symbol of the underworld, or evidence of a rough life spent in the mills or on the other side of the tracks. Nowadays, while the accompanying initiation rituals are obsolete, something residual and subconscious remains. Today young men may fancy that a tattoo gives them an aura of understated violence, rugged individualism, or an air of worldliness, and hence makes them more attractive to women or perhaps a bit feared by other men. As to the women of yesteryear, nothing spelled “woman in service” like a woman with a tattoo. In fact tattoos were considered too vulgar even for most prostitutes. Nowadays, of course, tattoos and piercings have seen a measure of social respectability even among librarians, accountants and elementary school teachers, which goes to show there is nothing inherently wrong or immoral about tattoos, but rather it is the social context we put them in. Remember nymphomania? Like homosexuality before 1973, nymphomania was one of those “diseases” that ceased being a disease. There were nymphomaniacs in the old days, but there aren’t any now- which gives rise to the question: Where have all the nymphomaniacs gone? Adolescent boys and young men were steeped in the mythology of nymphomania, its oral tradition transmitted along the cultural mediums of locker rooms and men’s taverns. Nobody ever thought to question why there weren’t any male nymphomaniacs. Sex was dirty then, and so was the idea of women’s sexuality. So much for the “good old days.” In yesteryear, the men’s bars were verboten for respectable women. In fact women were not even allowed in many of Lawrence’s bars-nightclubs not-withstanding- except in special rooms out back with a designated “ladies entrance.” The old-timers believed that women in a men’s bar were trouble, and women’s place was at home. But how things have changed. A friend told me a story: he was traveling through Northhampton, Massachusetts and decided to stop into a downtown bar for a beer. But it turned out to be a lesbian bar and they refused him service-because he was a man. The games continue. After forty years of liberation movements, are we merely playing musical chairs between oppressor and oppressed? Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose… Remember during the 1970’s when the tobacco industry tried to market cigars for women? Fortunately, the fashion didn’t catch on. A woman smoking a cigar is birth control. And nurturance and procreation are at the root of the female psyche. The reasons a woman would want a stogie or a tattoo are lost on me, although I acknowledge their right to these things if they desire them. Men of yesteryear used to ask, “Why can’t a woman be more like a man?” Now they are, which goes to show; be careful for what you wish for, you just might get it. This New Year, I would like to remind young readers of these words from the Roman statesman, Cicero. “To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child.” And to not-so-young readers, I offer the following thought: that these are the good old days, and that the best day is today. Mark Palermo is a professor at Northern Essex Community College in Haverhill and is the past vice-president of the faculty union. You can email him at markpalermo@lycos.com.
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There are few things as boring as
listening to old folks talk about the good old days. I
don’t indulge the habit of looking back to better
times, in part because my life is happier now than when I
was a young man. I have a beautiful, intelligent wife who
is also my best friend, healthy well-adjusted kids, a job
I enjoy. I have it all, I guess. But good things came
slowly. For me, and I suspect for a great many people,
life indeed begins at forty. My parents, for instance,
have always insisted that their best years were after
sixty.