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in the 84 page perfect-bound issue...
cc&d magazine (v219)
(the April 2011 Issue)




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“Falling Into Place”

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Literary
Town Hall

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Signs

Melissa Kosciuszko

    They say signs are everywhere. They are. And I’m not talking about signs from God, or psychic intuition, or even your wife’s mixed signals. Some of the best signs are real—clearly readable. They are made of paper and cardboard and plastic, neatly printed in marker, typed in word, or printed on a press.
    There is a cigar store not far from my house from which my husband occasionally buys a Fuente. I cannot stand the smell of smoke, so I always wait in the car. Usually, I read or write or fiddle with my phone for a few minutes, but one time I glanced, bored, out the windshield to the front door of the cigar store. The obligatory “No shirt, No shoes, No service” was, apparently, not good enough for this particular business owner.


    Proper Dress Required:
    No backwards or sideways caps
    No low riding pants
    No wife beater shirts


    Now, I don’t personally mind a backwards cap or one of those cheap tank tops, if the man be worth looking at. I suppose I like it so much because it is not politically correct—and the business owner doesn’t care. Freedom of speech, freedom to have your own opinion, is still alive and well in America.
    My favorite sign, though, was not made by a professional or even printed on a computer. The medium was a torn-off cardboard box flap and Sharpie, and it was probably as high class as this guy could hope.
    To get home from work, we take 295 to the Highway 17 exit, which is on the border of Jacksonville and Orange Park. This particular corner is a favorite spot for down and out people to stand with their “Will work for food” signs. This one guy, though, was honest.


    Y lie
    I need a beer


    It was printed in neat, clear letters. He was an accomplished drunk—he could still write straight even while inebriated, and he was definitely toasted. We had to give the guy a buck simply for the honesty.
    Yeah, I know, maybe this essay of mine is not politically correct. Maybe it’s not sensitive. Maybe I’m a bitch for writing my views. But as the bumper sticker said, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.”



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