As the days marched on towards April, I embarked on my yearly chore of doing some spring cleaning. As part of my ritual, I went through piles of paperwork on my desk. As a writer I accumulate papers that have column ideas, notes, phone numbers and assorted correspondence that, having evaded arriving by email, wound up as part of my desk mess.

This year I opened one of my junk drawers and discovered some manilla folders containing assorted papers and receipts from many years ago. Going through their contents was a trip down memory lane. 

A Blockbuster video card mingled with a myriad of business cards of people and companies that I had no recollection of ever engaging in business. One folder in particular caught my attention and became the subject of this column. Inside that folder were handwritten letters, contracts, cancelled checks and many other items that contained my signatures.

In the previous sentence you noticed I used the plural word “signatures.” I was not referring to the number of them. I was alluding to my observation that my signature has changed over the years. Speaking with a number of friends I found that I am not alone with that observation.

I remember in elementary school when we left behind block letters and learned cursive. Looking back, I think I know why it was called cursive. Making all those arcs and glides while trying to stay within the horizontal lines was challenging. It made you put the word “curse” in cursive. Eventually after many trials and errors I was able link the cursive letters to sign my name in script. 

That signature lasted for a few years and then began changing in high school. Maybe it was part of my maturation process but I began using block letters to start my first and last name. Following the block letters, I completed my signature with a legible script finish.

During the past decade I settled on a signature that looks like I am in a hurry. Following the block letters of my first and last name is a nondescript flourish without any discernable letters. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary “nondescript” means appearing to no particular kind. Well, that certainly applies to my current signature.

Recently, I attended a friend’s retirement party. As is often the case in office parties there was a card to sign. There should be a recognized protocol in that endeavor. If you are one of the first to sign, keep it simple. A simple “good luck” allows space for your coworkers to add a message. As the card fills up, it gets more difficult to find a space. But I suggest you squeeze it in rather than join others who had to sign on the back of the card. The only time the retiree might see signatures on the back is if they flip it over to see how much was spent on the Hallmark card.

The most famous signature of all time belongs to one of our nation’s founding fathers. In fact, his name is still sometimes used when someone requires your signature. Instead of saying “Sign right  here” you might hear “Let me have your John Hancock.” John Hancock was the first member of the Continental Congress to sign the Declaration of Independence. Apparently having little regard for the other 55 members waiting to sign, Hancock’s signature takes up a large swatch of the page. History does not tell us who suggested that everyone else should use a smaller signature. But somehow eventually all members added their signature. 

The last man to sign was Thomas McKean of Delaware. As he anxiously waited to sign, I am sure he hoped that there would be enough room for his signature. When he approached the document, he hesitated looking for a space when someone shouted “Put your Tom McKean right here.” He found a space, signed and laughingly said “Where there’s a quill, there’s a way.”

Hudson Cooper is a resident of Sullivan County, a writer, comedian and actor.