Taking down sign was bittersweet

I live at the end of a long dirt road.

For much of my life, it was easiest found with a white metal arrow emblazoned with our last name installed next to the highway and pointing in our direction.  

We took that sign down last year. I still field occasional calls asking me if it’s been stolen.

The truth was, it had outlived its purpose.

While it’s hard to believe in a world with global positioning systems built into our phones, not all so long ago that sign served an important role in our lives.

Our dad built it out of necessity. Like most ranches, we periodically received large trucks, some toting hay and feed and fuel, others to deliver and pick up livestock.

I love the High Plains, but it does have a shortage of unique geographic features.

Those ever-so-reliable green highway mile markers had yet to be installed, and a “rural addressing system” was still decades down the road (no pun intended).

Cell phones? That was the stuff of science fiction.

When we knew a truck was coming in, one of us was assigned the task of driving to the end of the road to park … and sit … and wait … and wait … to make sure the inbound truck didn’t miss the turn.

Let me tell you that being a landmark isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

The task most often fell to our mom. She would arm herself with a pad of paper and a pen or a book, and a jelly jar of ice water insulated with one of her crocheted cozies.

If she happened to draw duty on a Saturday afternoon in the right time of the year, she would let the car idle so she could listen to the radio broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera matinee — a treat best enjoyed at some distance from her less-than-appreciative children.

Even with the lure of an uninterrupted opera, the long hours at the end of the road took their toll. I suspect it was our long-suffering mother who came up with the idea of installing a sign to identify our turn-off.

Every few years, we dug the sign up and brought it home for a fresh coat of glistening white paint and shiny new letters crafted out of reflective tape.

Over time it became a bit of a landmark of its own. It wasn’t unusual for us to hear, “Hey, we drove past your sign yesterday.”

So, yes, it was a little bittersweet to take it down last November.

The sign is safely tucked in the back of the old garage, a good reminder of how much our world keeps changing ... but ready to be put back up if I feel the need for some good old-fashioned direction.

Betty Williamson is awed and amazed and grateful every time she uses GPS technology. Reach her at:

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