Street Sign Perversity in New Hampshire

First, let us get one thing straight:  living in New Hampshire is the culmination of a life long dream in my particular case. 

Brought to Lake Winnipesaukee at age 8, I was stunned by the air in New Hampshire. You could breath it and not struggle. We had left August in Washington, D.C., where the air, if you have ever been there in August, is and was close to unbreathable. Ninety five degree days and ninety degree nights with humidity in the same range, it left you gasping and desperate. In those days, it took two days to drive by Studebaker to New Hampshire. 

When we arrived, nothing was at all like the sultry south land, not the air, nor the accents of the people, nor the trees. New Hamsphire had these trees called birches, which had white trunks, sprinkled in clumps,"stands of birches"  among deep, dark pine forests.  The lake water was uncontaminated by oil or gasoline--in those days no motorized vessels were allowed on the lake--except for the Mount Washington tour boat. You could look down twenty feet to the bottom of the lake.  We drove into Laconia for blueberry muffins, and the blueberries were local.  I told my friends back in Washington the nights were so cool you had to wear a jacket, and of course, they did not believe me. I was spinning some Shangra-la tale and they knew no place like that could exist.

I told my parents I was moving to New Hampshire when I grew up, and they smiled indulgently and said, "You'd never last a winter."

So, now, in my crotchety old age, I'm back.

And I'm still in love with the place.

But there's this thing, a local perversity, about street signs.

 It's a state trait which extends from the north country to the sea coast: They simply do not believe in street signs, not even in tourist areas like the sea coast, where you know there are lots of people who have no idea what street they are driving down.

I ask my neighbors about this curious aversion to the placement of street signs, which  strikes me as a sort of basic courtesy to those who were not born and raised in Hampton, and I get blank looks, shrugs and utter lack of interest. 

I prod and probe. I accuse my neighbors of harboring some deep seated passive aggressiveness. I describe riding my bicycle down whatever road it is which comes off Route One between the Mobil station and the MacDonalds and it passes across Mill Road (I happen to know it is Mill Road, no thanks to any sign) , and continues down to an intersection everyone calls "Five Corners" but no road sign for this road. Here you have a major intersection with a flashing yellow light and a little wooden shelter if you are waiting for a bus. But no street signs for any of the five cross roads. Actually, there is a sign, "Little River" but it is placed at such an indifferent angle you cannot tell to which of the five intersecting roads it refers.   

Or there that intersection you come to having taking Cusack Road from Route 1 A (unmarked)  as it runs into some new, mystery road and there's a little triangular park maintained by civic minded gardener, but again, no street signs. It's enough of a spot of civic pride somebody has actually planted azaleas, but not enough to warrant a sign of any sort.

Of course, it's not entirely accurate to say there are absolutely no street signs. There are obviously a few street signs, just enough to give the non native a little hope, just enough to make you sound like a complete idiot trying to describe where you were or hoped to be by saying, well, I saw a street sign saying Ancient or Robie or Ann's Place  but these are almost always cross streets. You get on a main road and forget it. No sign. Or maybe, there's a sign for Mill Road where it finally terminates in Winnacunet, and Woodland Road is occasionally, tantalizingly, marked, just enough to get your hopes up that they really do know about street signs in New Hampshire, but then, nothing. You are riding down some long road from Hampton toward Rye and you can see cross streets occasionally marked, but what road is it which is carrying you north? 

It is as if the townspeople are saying, "Well, we'll help you with East and West, but if you don't know where you are going north/south, well then, you don't belong here."

I know I don't belong here: That's why I need street signs!

It's not like I'm asking the taxpayers to provide public garbage cans. I know about garbage cans: They require people to collect trash from them, and that means you have to pay people to do this work, and that means taxes, and taxes are something we don't want to even think about in Hampton, New Hampshire.  So, okay, just throw the trash on the ground and hope the Cub Scouts need some merit badges and hold a clean up day. I get the lack of trash cans.  But, really, how much could street signs cost?

Street signs are low maintenance. Even the initial expenditure must be pretty paltry. And the Cub Scouts might volunteer to put them up, if you give them a street sign merit badge.  

Street signs have all sorts of virtues: Repair men who were not born in Hampton can find your house.  Tourists do not have to turn around in your driveway.  New Yorkers do not have to stop their cars in the middle of the road, creeping along as you are walking your dog, trying find out what state they have got lost in. 

In some states people actually take pride in street signs: They have different and distinctive colors for different towns.  They even paint fire hydrants with faces and uniforms like Nutcracker soldiers in Rhode Island. It's fun. It's community. It's civic pride. 

There is a certain civilizing thrill in naming things, like roads. It can be efficient. If you are trying to give directions you can simply say, "Take Mill Road to South Road and take a left," rather than, "Take that road which you cross where there's a 4 way stop sign, not far from the doggy day care, near that big, burnt out oak tree and go until you see the sign for "roto-tilling" and go past the house with the turret and the sign on the lawn that says, "Save the Middle class." 

It is something you can do for other people. Really, New Hampshire, try that idea on--do something for someone you do not know, who was not born in your town and did not go to your church or your high school. Put up a street sign. You'll see. You'll like yourself better in the morning.