Got signs?
Even if you have announced your garage sale on craigslist, you’re probably going to put up signs to direct people to your place. I’d like to offer my two cents worth about how best to make your signs work for you.

Focus on who is going to be reading your sign. 95% of the time, it’s a person driving a car. That person, generally, has a split second to notice your sign and understand it. Don’t make him pull off to the side of the road or stop in traffic to try and comprehend the mini-billboard you’ve erected. You shouldn’t list the contents of your sale on your sign in 1” (and I’ve seen smaller) letters and don’t let your kid make the sign. It needs to be very simple and readable. Big, bold arrows are just about all you need and try to make all your signs the same color. Don’t put up a sign at some random intersection which, upon close examination, is only there to tell you NOT to turn there. And when you post a sign at the corner you want cars to turn at, put the sign on the side of the road they are to turn towards. This is especially important when you have drawn your arrow with something like a number 2 pencil. Again, you ought to be trying to avoid causing traffic accidents. And, if your sale starts tomorrow, put up your signs tomorrow.

If your sale was over yesterday, that’s when your signs should have been taken down. Why am I bothering with this? I go to more sales than anyone else. There’s no way to prove this, but I do. Like most salers, I travel alone and must make navigational decisions as I drive. After threatening to post this notice for the last few years I decided not to let another year go by without trying to extend some useful advice. I am aggravated by about half the signs I see, usually for one or more of the reasons I describe above. And, chances are, if I have to pull over and study my map book to figure out that your sale is 2 blocks away and you can’t pull off a decent couple of signs to get me there, I’m probably going to go elsewhere on general principles. Certainly more important than my feelings and those of the other customers, posting illegible signs or setting out signs for sales that aren’t happening on that day is going to annoy your neighbors with the unnecessary traffic. And isn’t that important to you?

Thanks, David.

On my 23rd birthday I stopped smoking cigarettes. Picking my birthday made for an easy target and has since made remembering the occasion a lot easier. At that point in my life I needed to quit. If you’ve ever tried to quit, you’ll know what I mean when I say that there has to be a need. This year I needed to cut off my long hair. I’ve been planning to do it for about 6 months now and, again, picking my birthday to do it made the most sense. Since I had mentioned my plan to a few people I was hit with the suggestion of donating my ponytail. It seems there are organizations which turn unwanted long locks into wigs for cancer patients. A very noble and gratifying endeavor. Except when I did the research on how to accomplish the donation it turns out that the demand for gray hair is about zero. And that’s about all the further into that topic I want to go in the interest of my, well, probably, ego. I’ve drawn a comparison between having a ponytail at 58 and the people who are depicted on the TV show “Hoarders”. The experts who council these hoarders say that people retain certain items in order to connect with their past. In itself, that’s not an unhealthy thing. But your home (or in my case, my head) is not the only way of maintaining a link with pleasant memories. I know it’s been over 10 years since I last cut my hair (yes, I cut my own). The pony tail holder I put in every morning has been slowly trimming all my hair to one very awkward length. When the wind blows, most of the hair on top of my head flies into my face. So, I cut it off today and it went in the trash and maybe, if I’m not too old, it’ll start to grow again. I played my new Sonic Youth album really loud while I cut it and shaved and it went pretty well. I figured I’d have to have a couple shots of Tequila but it didn’t come to that – at least not yet.

Don Crooks wasn’t related to me like the other two. He was the father of the guy who married my son’s sister-in-law. And he lived 2,000 miles from me. But when we visited, he and wife Irene made sure we were invited to their home for holidays and any other opportunity we could make.

If you were in Don’s house, you were part of the family. Not because he was lonely. He and Irene had raised (forgive the guesstimate) 10 kids and had welcomed, maybe, 5 times that many grandkids. Everyone in Don’s world was shown the same generosity and love. It reflected in his entire family.

He always remembered my name and couldn’t have been happier to share his food, drink – even Christmas presents. Don was the guy with the twinkle in his eye and a party hat on his head. He had one hand stirring whatever was going to be supper and always made sure your wine glass was full. You weren’t going to sit quietly in the corner of his table.

Don left this earth yesterday, long after the doctors had predicted he would. He passed at his home, with his family near. He was in no hurry to go. Too much to learn. Too much to say. I wish I could have spent more time with you, Don. They make the good ones in such small quantities.