Family

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POWER OF THE WRITTEN WORD

This was a while back, but someone reminded me I should tell the story. It is
also a tribute of kind to the clever little Burma Shave signs we used to see along
the sides of the road.

It was summer 1980, and my sister and I were planning a trip. We had never
done this before and all of us were very excited about it. I did everything I could
think of in the way of upkeep to my car. So it was, that she and I and her two
very fair little girls started for Colorado. We were going to visit my son and his
family, and also take in the zoo and other attractions.

We were not traveling “route 66", but highway 64 out of our town. During the
spring that year, we had a lot of snow and the already pitiful highway had suffered
even more damage. The gospel trio I sang in had made 3 trips down that road,
discovering there was no way to avoid the huge pot holes along the way. Some
were 5 feet across. I had assumed it had been repaired by now, for it was August.
Not so, every mile was an ordeal and I drove 60 miles dodging all kinds and sizes
of pot holes - not that it really was possible, but avoiding what I could.

Finally we were past the treacherous length of highway, and for a while traveled
along, singing together and pointing out the beginning of new country.

We stopped at 4:00 p.m. We were on top of Raton Pass. There was a rest stop,
and we turned off the all electric car and visited the girls room. When we returned
to the car, it was dead forever. Someone brought jumper cables, no luck. It was
(did I mention) SUNDAY afternoon. We knew no one.

In desperation I called a church in Raton, N.M., and actually reached someone who
told me their Church was having camp and most of their men were away at camp.
Meanwhile we were miserable. The all electric car wouldn’t let us roll down the
windows to even sit in the shade! The little blond girls were getting very warm.
Also, being a photographer, I had several thousand dollars worth of very nice,
don’t-get-me-hot equipment in the trunk, which was inaccessible also.
After awhile two nice fellows from the church I had called showed up to help.
We tried jump-start again to no avail. They suggested coasting down the mountain,
but I could not be comfortable going down that pass without power steering and
power brakes. Finally, we were towed back to Raton and found a station that
tested our battery and found it completely gone. If I had been home, my new
battery would have cost $6.00. I had just replaced it a few weeks before. But,
we parted with the best part of $100.00 and very grateful thanks for the kind
help we had received, however that was not the end of the story. I had determined
my car would not be a source of trouble on this trip and I couldn’t believe that
an almost new battery would do that. As we mulled it over, my sister and I figured
out who the culprit was: Highway 64! Those chug holes! They had beat my battery to death! So, we began a little fun: Jingles in the form of Berma Shave signs.
This part of the state referred to the strip of highway as “Northwest Passage” and
we renamed it “Northwest Nigh-mare” in honor of our Governor, George Nigh.
There was a huge billboard just as you left our town with “Northwest Passage”
printed on it. Our jingles continued to grow and we decided to write them down.
We went on to have a nice vacation, but coming home we decided to avoid that
particular patch of highway, so we went east to Kansas and came home that way.

I decided I would print those jingles up and tack them along the road side. My
husband had doubts, but he could tell I was determined and watched me with my
big marker write out the phrases: “The life you risk......will be your own....if you
travel the Northwest....Nigh-mare alone”.
I had a friend who was editor of the local paper. I went to see her, swore her to
secrecy, and explained (in the dark room) what I was going to do. I quoted a few of the verses. She slapped her knees, doubled over in laughter and said, “I love it! I love it! And the governor reads this paper as it is the only one in the Panhandle, so he will be sure to see it. Take a picture of every one. They will go on the front page!”
The evening before I planned to put up the signs, we received a call from a cousin
of my husband who was just “wondering” since we had the same last name, if
we were related. We had never met this young man before, and he and my husband
had many tales to relate. He had barely known his grandfather, about whom my
husband knew several tales, so they enjoyed the visit and we told him we were
putting up these signs for Labor Day weekend. He said he’d just come along and drive for us.
While he drove, my husband and I would jump out, run through the weeds and
tack up a sign.
We put up signs for 12 miles. Every once in a while, our driver would say, “I think
that was a cop...” I said, “Listen, if a policeman stops and finds out what we are
doing he’ll probably help us! They have to drive this road every day!” Finally he
said, “Even my peers couldn’t get me to do this!” I just smiled. I felt kinda like a
rebel, and my husband (a prankster himself) didn’t do much to encourage me, but
he did help me. I could never have gotten all those nails in those posts.
Well, I took my film to the paper office. The next day, our little new found cousin came by to read the headlines. They had quoted every one and had front page
pictures of some of the signs: “The Life You Risk....Will be your own...If you travel the Northwest....Nigh-mare alone”, “If you’re mad at your kids, .....and you’d like
to shake ‘em.....Northwest Nigh-mare’s.....The road to take ‘em!”, “To keep your car ....From jarring apart.....Go to Boise City.....VIA Dalhart!”, “Downstate projects ....all are hot....Panhandle highways.....Are forgot!”

There is power in the written word, even if it is a Burma Shave Sign. The highway we had been told would have to be completely torn up down to the base and take
years of work to complete, was well begun five weeks later. They did a fine job and everyone really appreciated it.

I never told but a few of the family. Our cousin wrote for more papers. (I think he
thought I was a character, even though I’d never done anything like that before.)
I heard comments and died laughing inside. It was worth doing. A lot of people
were benefitted by the outcome, and my husband and I recall with a smile making
such an impression on a new-found relative.
Life is full of words. Let mine be kind, sweet, and.......beneficial!

Joan Clifton Costner
copyright
http://underhiswings0.tripod.com

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