I avoided folks with tattoos. Thought they were rough and tough and scary. Until I met a guy who painted my apartment which took 3 days who covered with tats everywhere the clothing wasn't except his face. I was on vacation so I was around while he was there and we got to talking. He was a retired Marine (so was my dad). His taste in music (jazz and classical) and literature (science fiction) mirrored mine and we were off and running! That was the first day.The second and 3rd days day I made him and his helper lunch. By the time he was done on that third day I was sad to see him go. I hugged him and thanked him for the excellent job he did and also for the enjoyable conversation. I know it's a silly thing but it was big to me and I was so embarrassed and ashamed of how I felt when I was ignorant and how very wrong I had been. Knowledge is a wonderful thing. Isn't it?