It happens frequently. A young person will ask me to sign a book I’ve written and then look at it in awe for a few seconds before saying, “Wow. You know calligraphy!”
No. Although I did it once rather well, I addressed wedding invitations for friends.
Perhaps I’ll take it back up again.
But what I do is plain, old, simple cursive writing. I enjoy the extravagance of the swirls I add to my Rs, Ms, Fs, and Ss. I admit. It looks pretty.
Often, when someone comments on my signature at a book signing, I reply, “I learned that from Richard Petty.”
Besides being one of the greatest stock car drivers ever birthed, Richard Petty – one of the first inductees into the NASCAR Hall of Fame – has a signature unlike any writing I’ve ever seen. With great care, he signs his name beautifully, with many swirls. Once, when I was walking with him, someone stopped him for his autograph. Here, Richard Petty always carries a couple of Sharpies with him. He is one of the world’s great celebrities. He had the talent to win 200 races, but he was humble enough to be the sport’s king truly.
“King Richard!” fans call out. Beneath those dark sunglasses he wears constantly, his eyes show an undoubtable twinkle. A wide smile of bright white teeth flashes brilliantly. On that particular day that I was walking with him – at a fast pace – I counted the seconds he took to sign, “Richard Petty.” Eleven seconds. Most drivers or celebrities scrawl it out to where it can’t be read.
I was young then, still learning. “Why,” I asked as we walked off, “do you sign your name so elaborately? It takes so much time.”
He touched my shoulder, stopped, and looked at me. “Let me tell you something, young lady, if a person cares enough to ask for my signature, then I’m gonna give ‘em one to remember. Some might treasure it.”
When the time came for me to autograph books, his words resounded in my ears. I had always had good penmanship, but thanks to Richard Petty, I practiced my signature and kicked it up a bit.
“That’s beautiful!” I often hear.
“Thank Richard Petty if you ever see him.” They don’t understand, but I do.
Several months ago, a young man, in his early to mid-30s, stood up in church one Wednesday night. “I have a thank-you note to read,” he announced. He looked at the note momentarily, then said shyly, “Y’all be patient with me. It’s been a long time since I read cursive writing.”
Oh, how that pained my heart. Our entire generation knows only how to print. Cursive is foreign to them.
My sisters and I, especially, have beautiful penmanship. It looks almost like a work of art, whether on a check, a gift card, or a note — gorgeous, clear, and completely readable.
I’ll admit that while mine is good, it falls short after years of being a reporter and scribbling notes quickly during an interview. I have a friend (still a reporter) who knows shorthand, so her interview notes will be a scramble of cursive – which, by the way, is faster than printing – and shorthand symbols.
After depriving a generation and a half of cursive teaching, school officials nationwide have decided it’s time (past time) to bring it back http://www.rondarich.com. Half of the states have mandated it by law.
If not, you couldn’t sign your name to vote, and you couldn’t read historical documents left behind, with letters swirling together.
Among the first states to reinstate cursive teaching, most were Southern.
I am not surprised.
Southerners know what it takes to make the best-looking thank-you note possible.
Ronda Rich is the best-selling author of St. Simons Island: A Stella Bankwell Mystery. Visit www.rondarich.com to sign up for her free newsletter.