Signage, Part One

Say this word five times fast: Signage. Say it. Now assure your children you haven’t been drinking, but that when you get older, laughs are cheap and you have to resort to reading blogs by crazy people.

When Marc was in grad school, he came home one day and told me in a disbelieving tone that his department had put up signs (signage) announcing an upcoming meeting regarding signage. While this is a very apt metaphor for just the kind of mindless banter that can drive a person right out of academia in a hurry, using the word “signage” has given me no small amount of joy over the years. Why not just “signs?” And why have meetings about it?

These are the deep questions of the universe, and entirely too heady to discuss on this blog. We prefer talking about falling on our tushes and woodchucks.

So instead of thinking about word origin, let’s take a look at a sign that gave me GREAT joy recently. When we traveled to Dallas, we had the chance to visit a fantastic new outdoor space downtown called Klyde Warren Park. Yummy food trucks, great green space, delightful people and dog watching, and a lovely little playground.

When we approached the entrance to the playground, we saw this:

Talk about great signage! Only in Texas! And I want you to know I actually witnessed women removing their high heels to walk into the playground area.

I, with the foresight of a frumpy Midwesterner, had left my heels at home. I didn’t look very pretty, but darn it, I was able to walk right up to the climbing cube and get AFTER it!

All right, you Southern women. Defend yourselves. Explain yourselves. And for the love of Pete, please interpret the signage.