Listen to Jim: http://jimreedbooks.com/mp3/timesofthesigns.mp3
or read on…
Much of my life has been spent reading signs and posters and labels
and postings, notes and warnings and instructions and poorly-spelled
graffiti. These signs and posters and labels and postings etc. are
like caulking or glue–they fill in the interstices and silences of my
existence, and they always entertain.
This runs in my family–genetics and upbringing will tell!
My father read aloud every highway sign on each trip, short or long.
And now my elder sister Barbara, and my younger brothers Ronny and Tim
do the same thing.
Signs have this important function in my life: they teach me grammar,
usually by poor example, and they instruct me on the correct way to
communicate in brief, without being misunderstood.
Most sign-authors don’t know the value of testing before a sign is
made. If the author knows the meaning of the sign, said author of
course believes without question that every sign-reader will find the
same meaning in the message.
Not true.
One of my earliest memories of a clear example of
sign-miscommunication: a 1950′s Gahan Wilson single-panel cartoon
depicts a man sitting immobilized in his automobile with a STOP sign
before him. He has grown a beard, and cobwebs cover his car. He’s
obeying the sign! He’s still sitting there to this day, in my signage
memory.
Another flashback: in the 1940′s and ’50′s, each public bus in
Tuscaloosa clearly displayed a metal sign that read, COLORED TO REAR,
WHITE TO FRONT. As a child, I had no idea what that meant, but I
assumed it was some instruction about how important it was to fill a
coloring book last page first, but only if you’re on a bus. White
crayons existed but were mostly useless except on dark-colored front
covers. I figured every kid knew this, so why did the bus driver
emphasize it with his sign?
Even now, I catch myself staring at an orange juice carton a little
too long because it clearly states, CONCENTRATE.
The funniest signs in childhood were those posted by Burma Shave along
the blue-road highways. There’s even a book at my shop listing all
those signs from long ago. Sad story: I once talked with a young
public relations practitioner who worked for Burma Shave. I asked
whether the company kept any of those wonderful signs on display at
their headquarters. She hadn’t the vaguest idea what I was talking
about. The signs had apparently disappeared from the collective
company memory bank. That would be the equivalent of a MoonPie factory
worker’s not knowing anything about R.C. Cola.
In England, I saw signs here and there that stated, MIND YOUR HEAD. I
assumed they had replaced the old-time motivational posters that used
to read, THINK! Wrong again. They were posted only on low-overhanging
passageways and doors to warn pedestrians to duck instead of knocking
themselves silly.
There are thousands of examples handy in my ready memory, but you can
fill in your own.
Look around you and enjoy the good Times of the Signs
(C) 2011 A.D. by Jim Reed