Every time I back my car out of the garage, I am reminded that a relic from my college years needs to tossed away--but I just can’t get my sentimental heart to do so. A Do Not Enter sign, autographed by numerous old friends, rests along the east wall, gathering dirt, rust, and cobwebs. I’ve had it since 1970. It was given to me by Baseball Ray, who took it from one of the strip pits west of our college town. He wrote, “Virgin Territory” underneath the formal lettering. It was the only “gift” I ever received from him during our dating days. What a guy!
I, along with a few miscreant pals, was a procurer of signs forty years ago. My prize was a Highway 69 sign I found, abandoned, in my neighbor’s garage. An old stop sign was found in much the same way. The only one that was ever taken under highly suspicious circumstances was when my friend Kathy Mac took a Men Working sign in front of the Pizza Palace late one night when we were dragging Broadway in my VW Beetle. I was stopped at a traffic light, she exited the car and then returned, much to my surprise, with this big, swinging yellow sign. She was a Townie who still lived with her parents, so I became Keeper of the Goods. Included in the stash was also No Parking, 12-Minute Parking, No Dumping, and Government Property No Trespassing.
When I finally graduated and moved away, all the signs but one were left in the custody of those who remained behind. I kept the Do Not Enter sign and it has moved with me into other states and burgs over the years. I just can’t seem to part with it. I don’t know why. It just sits in the garage getting grungier looking with each passing year. I guess it makes me feel young and silly again--if only for a fleeting moment in time.
1 comment:
i was part of taking a stop sign on a small side road between P-burg and Joplin. i remember shinnying up the pole to help take it down. it was made into a table (it was actually pretty big) and resided in our sorority house. we certainly were miscreants!!
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