202500

In 2023, I spontaneously committed to doing something I’d considered for many years but never thought I would actually do. I was having breakfast alone at a diner in a small farming community in Central California. There were four people at the next table talking about things that made my skin crawl. I didn’t engage them. I just listened in horror as I saw the America I love grow ever closer to the Germany of the 1930s and 40s. As I walked home, I passed by a tattoo parlor, and something inside clicked – today was the day. I went home and designed the tattoo by cutting and pasting together numbers from various Auschwitz tattoo images I found online. Research had shown me that different sets of numbers were used for different “classes” of people: Soviet prisoners, Jewish males, Jewish females, homosexuals, Romani males, Romani females etc. The Gypsies were differentiated with a Z before their numbers. The massive number of Hungarians deported to Birkenau in 1944, had their own set of numbers prefaced with the letter A. Etcetera. I learned that the final “regular” number issued to a Jewish male was 202499.

After designing my tattoo, I went to the shop. An employee approached me, his shaved head revealing a scalpful of ink. I showed him my design and where I wanted it. He questioned me, “Why the inside of your left forearm? No one will see it. Why such a rough design? Let me clean that up for you”. I tried to explain that the location and crudeness were intentional, that the tattoo was meant to be ugly and rough, that there was nothing nice about it. After struggling to get through to him, he finally said, “Like cattle?” Precisely! As I put my arm on the table and he transferred the template he’d created, I looked at the wall of sample designs and saw a swastika. Perfect! In the end, it came out too clean and uniform, but it still serves its purpose. As I paid the man, the owner of the shop asked to see the work. He cocked his head sideways, squinted a little quizzically and asked what it represented. I said, “Are you familiar with Auschwitz?” He stared back blankly, no hint of recognition. THAT is why I got it! My number is 202500, a reminder that, without vigilance, I am next.

I don’t show the tattoo off. I’ve never posted it on social media and I don’t discuss it. I think my parents, grandparents and some Jewish friends would be horrified and/or offended. That is not my intention. It is personal so I keep it to myself. It MY reminder; MY remembrance. I was quite recently in Prague and Berlin where I chose to leave it visible. One man took notice and ask about it. I shared my story and he cried.