I gave my mom about two hours of warning before getting my first tattoo.
It was something I had secretly wanted to do for a long time, but I had never come up with an idea thoughtful enough to be worth permanently inking on my body. Plus, I wasn’t terribly excited about the notion of being stuck with needles for however long that process took.
Both those fears evaporated after a life-changing event forged a connection that would eventually lead to a tattoo.
My dad, Phil Axelrod, died on July 21, 2014, barely eight months after being diagnosed with lung cancer. A relatively short amount of time may have passed between when we realized what was wrong and the end of his suffering, but it was the longest, most difficult period of my life to date and hopefully ever.
Before cancer sapped him of his personality, my dad was an active, silly man who loved a good argument. He spent 37 years as a Post-Gazette sportswriter and was always a loving and attentive father. We were extremely close, and it was heartbreaking to watch him deteriorate into someone who could barely carry a conversation toward the conclusion of his ordeal.
I was living and working in the Washington, D.C., area when he died. Two days before I got the call, I attended a production of “The Lion King” at the Kennedy Center. It was as colorful and bombastic as anyone familiar with the Broadway “Lion King” would expect, and it also provided a fantastic distraction from my real-world troubles.
There’s a song in the stage show that wasn’t in the 1994 Disney animated classic called “They Live In You.” The number is performed by Mufasa as he teaches Simba about how the great kings of the past live on in him. It’s later reprised by Rafiki — this time titled “He Lives In You” — as the baboon reminds Simba that, like those other kings, Mufasa’s spirit resides inside him.
After my dad’s death, I racked my brain for tangible ways to honor him. Finally, it hit me: You’ve always wanted a tattoo, and you will never have a better reason to get one than this. So, in February 2015, I went into The Tattooery in College Park, Md., to go under the needle. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I expected it to and the final product was more than worth it.
On the outside of my left shoulder, there is now a Rafiki-style cave drawing of a lion with the words “He Lives In You” written in black script below it. Even my mom, who is staunchly anti-tattoo to this day, had to admit that it was the perfect design for me. I’ve gotten eight more tattoos since and this is still by far the most meaningful one.
For the record, “The Lion King” had been a huge part of my life since long before that Kennedy Center excursion. The film came out in 1994 when I was only 2 years old. Disney struck a nerve with me as a small, impressionable child who for whatever reason saw something in that story that had me hooked on it for the next 25 years — and probably the rest of my life.
Honestly, my early love for “The Lion King” probably had more to do with the cute animals, kid-friendly humor and catchy Elton John-composed songs than the film’s deeper themes of family, responsibility and preservation. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; “Hakuna Matata” may be a random tune sung by a warthog and meerkat, but it still slaps in 2019.
I developed a habit of forcing my parents to play “The Lion King” soundtrack cassette every time we got in the car, which they begrudgingly allowed. The only thing that broke me of that routine was the cassette wearing out from being played so much. Can you blame a 4-year-old who just wanted to jam to “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” at every opportunity?
As I matured, I would often return to “The Lion King” as my ultimate comfort entertainment. I even watched it in theaters for the first time as an adult during a re-release event a few years ago. Unsurprisingly, the animation is even more brilliant and the emotional beats pack an even harder punch on the big screen.
In retrospect, the fact that I happened to see that Broadway version right before my dad died feels as destined as Simba finally taking his rightful place as king of Pride Rock. “The Lion King” will always be linked to him in my mind, imbuing something that has always sparked joy in me with extra layers of poignancy and relevance.
He truly was my Mufasa: a role model who I was always eager to learn from and who would set me straight when I did something dumb. The concept of the deceased always being with us that permeates the Mufasa-Simba relationship may sound corny, but it brought me a bit of peace during a tumultuous time. I’ll forever be grateful to “The Lion King” for that.
That theme struck me as so important that I used a line from “He Lives In You” during the eulogy I gave at my dad’s funeral. I could barely get the words out through my tears, but it was a message I wanted to relay to our friends, family and everyone there to honor his memory: “Into the water, into the truth/In your reflection, he lives in you.”
That brings us to the new “Lion King”, which Disney is releasing into the wild this Friday. My feelings about the existence of this remake are going to sound contradictory, but hear me out.
I’m on record as saying this particular Disney live-action remake — a misnomer from the beginning, as nothing about this photorealistic CGI is live-action — is a horrible idea. The original “Lion King” is a perfect movie from top to bottom. You can’t improve on perfection, so why bother? Yes, I know the answer is money, but still!
With that said, Disney has seemingly done everything right with this new “Lion King.” They hired Jon Favreau, who directed the similarly styled 2016 “Jungle Book,” to helm the project. The voice cast is amazing, headlined by Donald Glover as Simba and Beyonce as Nala. The footage we’ve seen so far has been beautiful and it appears this “Lion King” will be, at worst, very good.
It’s very possible that a film I firmly believe shouldn’t even exist will be incredible. I truly hope so, because I have a lot more riding on its creative success than just a fun time at the movies.
This is probably going to sound dramatic, but the ability of this new “Lion King” to correctly translate the original’s complexity and emotional impact will — like everything “Lion King”-related in my mind — feel like either a proper way of honoring or a slap in the face to my dad’s legacy. It’s admittedly a lot to put on one movie’s shoulders, but that’s just how it is.
When it comes to the remake, most people are probably most looking forward to hearing Glover and Beyonce duetting “Can You Feel the Love Tonight,” or Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen hamming it up as 2019 Timon and Pumbaa, or even finding out if Chiwetel Ejiofor can match Jeremy Irons’ Shakespearean menace as Scar.
But for me, it has always been and will always be about Mufasa teaching Simba the ways of the world as his cub gazes admiringly at his father. It reminds me of the times when my dad would walk around Squirrel Hill with me on his shoulders like I was the heir to his throne. Which, as a newly minted sports reporter at the Post-Gazette, I kind of am now.
Every time I see a new trailer for “The Lion King” 2019, all I can think about is the “he lives in you” ethos that has been a core part of that film’s appeal for me since my dad’s death. If the new version downplays that theme or (God forbid) omits it altogether, it will feel like a direct assault on his memory.
I need the new “Lion King” to be good. That film has moved me along the circle of life for as long as I can remember, through despair and hope, and through faith and love. I have no choice but to put my faith in Disney with the new film.
Hopefully it won’t let me or my dad down.
Joshua Axelrod is a digital sports producer for the Post-Gazette (jaxelrod@post-gazette.com).
First Published: July 14, 2019, 11:00 a.m.
