What Does Your Signature Say?

I've been fascinated with people's signatures since I learned to write. At that time -- Mid-20th Century -- it was called handwriting, not cursive or chicken scratch. Today, that's what some people's signatures look like -- the scratching of a feral chicken.

All too many modern signatures are unreadable, if not indecipherable. Call it a scribble, a squiggle or a doodle but please don't tell me that is your name.

It could be a brand or a label, but what good are they if you can't identify them -- - not something you'd want to wear on your shirt sleeve, cap or underwear. I could be wrong about that.

The most famous signature belonged to John Hancock, President of the Continental Congress and first to sign the Declaration of Independence. His name became synonymous for your signature. "Put your John Hancock here on the dotted line."

In elementary school, I ran across many amateur forgeries of Mr Hancock's famous signature. Kids tried to copy it. Probably because it was fun and famous, attached to our great document.

I tried it myself. By the time I was in high school I was forging my friends' parents' signatures on bogus absentee notes. In hindsight, I could have made a business out of it, but I never charged a friend for their parent's signature. They provided the signature and I copied it in a note. 

"Please excuse William for his absence from school yesterday. He was ill and could not make it to class. May God keep you in good health, Mrs. Mary K. O'Hara.

Not one parent had a squiggle for a signature.

Mark Zuckerberg

Signature experts claim that people are too busy these days to sign their names legibly. Some psychoanalyze signatures. For example Mark Zuckerberg's signature is simply his initials, which means he's hiding out, doesn't have the time, too important. Zuck runs Meta, formerly and popularly known as Facebook.

Johnny Depp's signature looks like a bold hieroglyphic from another world. The challenge is to find any semblances of his name in his signature. He's an artist. You would think that an artist might be a little bit more clever with some hints. I wouldn't want it on my underwear.

Johnny Depp

Marylyn Monroe, sex symbol of the 1950s -- blond, curvaceous, voice like a cuddly baby doll -- had a mundane signature by today's standards. Easy to read. No frills, loops or runaway lines. Perhaps that was her true inner self: just an ordinary gal. She fooled us. Or maybe that was her unspoken allure. I'm delving now.

Marilyn Monroe

That's what's cool about signatures: they make you want to delve and interpret. But who has time for such trivial pursuits in a digital world where e-signatures will do the trick. I do.

According to my informed sources, your handwritten signature is never exactly the same. You could call it your organic mark, ever slightly changing, a simple breathing symbol of you and nobody else; when on a contract or document, a legally binding notation of one’s name.

I also found out that you can majorly change your signature, but not just on a whim one day and another whim the following day. You've got to be consistent. I've changed mine several times, going with my first two initials -- K.C. -- before my surname for the past 25 years. I've always been fond of the name, Kansas City (K.C.), even considered it as a name for a son or daughter. Luckily, I did not sire another child since I had that thought.

Out of curiosity and for inspiration, I searched out the signatures of figures from the past whom I admire, like Abraham Lincoln, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Albert Einstein, Hunter S. Thompson. Except for Hunter -- whose signature was as gonzo as he was -- their names were signed legibly with artistic flourish, similar to John Hancock's.

Hunter S. Thompson

I once owned a football decorated with signatures of L.A. Rams players, and I could read every one of them. No loopy, harried circles and cross hairs. What would be the point if you couldn't read their name? I have a baseball signed by pitcher (30-game winner) Denny McLain. A big and notorious man, Denny has a clear, simple signature.

A major regret is my losing a T-shirt that Jane Fonda signed for me, while I was wearing said T-shirt. We had attended the same Willie Nelson concert circa 1981. I knew I would never get that close to her again. 

Jane Fonda

In the distant future, who will be able to identify Johnny Depp's signature? Aliens from another world? Who was Johnny Depp, anyway?

My newly minted signature is legible yet artistic, it flows like water with curves representing iconic symbolism of yin and yang. It is deep and forward driven, while employing the laziness of a cool summer breeze and its author.

Still, I wouldn't have it on my underwear. Maybe on a paper napkin.