Pollution on a stick. What else to call the thickets of needless and repetitive signs that line our roadsides and penetrate parks and other public places. Some come in words, others in universal symbols. They may direct, forbid, inform or advertise. New ones pop up all the time like some weedy invasive plant.
In these days of justifiable concern over distracted driving caused by cell phones, eating, and other diversions, it’s remarkable that eye-caching road signs are not seen as culprits. Often there are more messages blaring at drivers beyond the windshield than can be absorbed at the posted speed limit.
To be sure, I value discrete street and directional signs, the more reflective for night viewing the better. But do we really need two or three signs telling us we’ve crossed a town line, that a service club meets on the first Monday of the month, markers indicating mileage every few minutes, or billboards bombarding us with ads for everything from cars to toenail clippers?
