Have you ever wondered what was going on with some signs you see as you travel along?
For instance there was a sign in a window of a shop in Roswell a few years ago that read: “WHO DO YOU HAVE TO HUG AND KISS IN THIS TOWN TO GET SOME BUSINESS?”
I actually changed some words for this story, “hug and kiss” wasn’t part of the sign, but it’ll do for a family newspaper. The store was going out of business. I’m pretty sure they weren’t happy about it.
Last spring, The Lady of the House and I stopped at a convenience store in a central Texas town. Parked across the street was a pick-em-up truck with a big hand-painted sign in the back: “JACK SMITH. BAD MECHANIC. STEALS PARTS.”
Part of me wanted to know the whole story about this sign. Part of me said I’d never know. I suppose the sign said it all; the driver and “Jack Smith” didn’t see eye to eye on some repairs.
Then last November passing through another Texas town, we drove by a striped house. I mean a house painted with up-and-down stripes of different colors. Out front was a big sign: “HEY BOBBIE, WORRY ABOUT OUR ROADS NOT OUR GRASS.”
We pulled into the town’s lone convenience store. I picked up some fried pies and sodas and went to the counter.
“I’ve just got to know what that’s all about,” I said to the clerk.
I nodded to the house just down the street.
“Oh, the sign? The striped house?” she asked. “The town manager had said some things about that place. Said it was an eyesore and the yard wasn’t kept up. So the owner did that.”
I thought about all the time and effort it took to make that statement; painting the house, making the sign.
It made me tired just thinking about it.