To My Wife:

To my wife:

I am sending you a simple anniversary message from my heart to yours. It is an open message meant to spread a little love from our hearts to the hearts of others.I ask anyone reading this to refrain from commenting. Instead I ask that you take a moment to reflect on someone dear to you. It may be a spouse, parent or a sibling. Maybe its that new baby on the way or the toddler in your lap. Maybe you have a loved one serving their country in a far off land or living in another state too distant for you to stop by and say hello. Reflect for a moment on what that loved one means to you and how different your life might be if they hadn't turned up on your doorstep. We don't do enough of that these days. We take everything for granted. We expect instant potatoes and gourmet meals in thirty minutes or less. I thought on this, our 39th day as one, it would be nice to write a piece about love and appreciation. In this world of 'me', we expect more and give less. The biggest gift I ever received came from my wife. She has been giving me that gift in small daily doses for 39 years. It is the gift of unselfishness. I am a slow learner and a stubborn student. It has taken me years to realize how unselfish a mother and wife must be. They sacrifice holiday’s and cold dinners to others. They put themselves at the back of the line regardless of how long that line is. I now understand how fortunate I have been. 

We are  surrounded by these selfless loved ones who want only the best for us. They want us to be safe on the way home. They want our bellies full and our faces smiling. These are the loved ones who don’t think about it, they simply do it. It comes natural to them. 

To my wife I love you. I thank you for not skimping on anything you do for me. To everyone reading this, you have a person in your life who is long overdue for a hug, a kind word, or maybe a hand written letter. Don’t wait another minute. Grab a pen, or your car keys, the phone or just yell across the street. The person who means so much to you deserves it. Spread the love. After all there's not a day that goes by that someone isn't celebrating an anniversary somewhere.  

Happy Anniversary! 

Love, 

John

Dear Clem,

An open tribute letter to a sign painter named ‘Clem.’

Photo courtesy of Valerie Adinolfi  Berekely, California 

Christmas Day 1989, Whitney Place, Saratoga Springs 

Dear Clem (Walter Clements),

My name is John Greenwood. Back in the 1980’s I owned and operated a milk delivery business named Price’s Dairy. During those years you painted that name on the sides of some of my milk trucks. I was always fascinated by your profession and by your quiet talent. I was even more curious about your personal story. Over my years in business I would run into you at the counter of a corner diner having breakfast or maybe on the stool of a Caroline St. bar. You were always friendly to me. You seemed to notice I was a young man trying to preserve a withering profession. Maybe because you were doing the same as an aging sign painter. You could see your profession was an endangered species, just like mine. 

There was something about your persona that lead me to believe you may have wanted more out of life and a paint brush. You took a great deal of pride in your work. That fact revealed itself as I researched your career looking for signs of your work and your life. I found many hidden treasures during my search. I reunited with friends long forgotten. I made new friends with people in your past. People I’d never met. Nice people who even while living on the other side of the country embraced and understood my search. I heard of your quiet kindness, and your dry and sometimes playful wit. I discovered 40 year old ‘Clem Signs’ right on Broadway that I had been passing by for decades. I truly enjoyed my search so far and felt the need to publicly declare my admiration for you and your work. 

As I dug deeper and found more I was even more convinced that your desire to paint had much deeper roots. I felt the pulse of a frustrated artist yearning for a more varied palette and audience. The need to survive and quench your thirst always changing the path you were forced to travel. I too have been searching for a venue to share my creativity. It came later in life and I believe with all my heart that my search for your story played a huge role in me finding my own story. 

So Mr. Walter Clements I want to say thank you to you and the loved ones you left behind. My search for a sign from Clem continues on. I am confident there are more hidden treasures to be uncovered and shared. For those of you following this story I know that if you have one ounce of wonder in your body you will have an inkling of what I am trying to accomplish with this seemingly fanatical journey. It’s not so much the treasure as it is the digging. 

Yours truly, 
John 

To follow the entire Searching For A Sign From Clem collection simply search Clem Signs at the top of the blog page. There is a palette full of posts related to this search. 

If you find a sign from Clem in your travels around the Saratoga and Glens Falls area please contact me at jgreenwood@rainingiguanas.com. I will be there in the stroke of a brush. 

Tiger's Comeback #2

Tiger's Comeback #2

By John R. Greenwood

June 10, 2013 

I was paged to the front desk at work this afternoon. The call said,"There is a man here who says he has something that will make your day." 

When your day starts at 5am, it's a Monday in the Hauling Department, and the only thing good that happened since you got there was knowing Friday was now eight hours closer, you live to hear a sentence like that. 

"I'll be right there!", I said

It was an old friend and he was grinning from ear to ear. He looked like a kid who just got a new bike for his birthday. It was one of those 'Yee Haw' looks that brings a smile to anyone watching, even if they don't know what's going on. 

He kept waving to me, "Come on, come on, I have something to show you!" 

We stepped outside to his parked minivan and he pulled out his keys. He popped open the hatch in the back. There as big as life and filling the van to the brim was a tiger laying on his side. It was the most beautiful tiger you've ever seen. It was a sight to behold, not just because of it's looks, but because of the story that came with the tiger, The Esso Tiger from the 70's. 

You will have to read the story which I wrote almost four years to the day to fully understand today's excitement. This was a story that took decades (plus 4yrs) to come full circle. It's the simple story of an Esso Tiger, a teenage prank taken to extremes, a couple of grey haired kids smiling from ear to ear over a fiberglass memory brought back to life. A life that for at least two men on a wet and rainy problem filled day turned happy and joyful. It is one of those cherished stories that you tell your grandkids so many times there's a good chance it will cling to a few generations beyond. 

After handshakes and photographs we repacked Esso Tiger in the back of his new owner's minivan. He was headed home where he belonged and where he would start his new job as the ultimate yard ornament, whimsically entertaining anyone who would listen to his story. The roundabout story of a tiger who once was lost, and now was found. 

Now here is the rest of the story:

Tiger's Comeback #1 

By John R. Greenwood

June 24, 2009 

This is a true story. The names have been withheld to protect the participants. The following story is not about Tiger Woods, nor is it about Tony the Tiger. It is not about an endangered species, circus animal or, old family cat. It is about an Esso Tiger. This is the story of an Esso Tiger that disappeared from the roof of a long forgotten gas station in Saratoga Springs one moonlit summer night in the early 70’s. The story is about the Esso Tiger’s journey from that rooftop to a backyard on Northern Pines Rd. where it stood guard for 30 years.

Even with a missing tail and faded stripes, Esso Tiger never shied from his role. He protected and entertained two active boys from childhood to adulthood. Sadly, Esso Tiger’s job diminished when the boys grew up and moved away. Work was hard to find and his life became boring and dismal as he filled a corner in the tool shed. There he was propped uncomfortably on his broken tail and with his back against the wall. The Esso Tiger never lost hope that life would improve and a fresh opportunity would someday march his way.

Well, one recent summer day, as his caretaker for 30 years, I could sense the sadness in the Eye of the Tiger. He was calling for my attention. My life was at a crossroads and so it was for Esso Tiger. “Time to move on.” he seemed to whisper. And so, it was to be.

I dug the faded sentry from his cobwebbed crypt and placed him in the yard, with a sign that seemed quite sad, “FOR SALE”. I had placed Esso Tiger out there a few times before. In times of monetary greed and the EBay fueled collectable explosion, I thought Esso Tiger could be worth as much as one-thousand dollars or more. Now in hard economic times, light wallets, and $3 gas, Esso Tiger’s going price was set at fifty bucks. I was lovingly encouraged to take twenty-five if offered.
All alone, Esso Tiger sat out there through days one and two of his caretaker’s vacation. Depression and boredom were enemies creeping close and breathing heavy on his faded neck.

Then like a beacon, like an angel from above, an answer came through the gate. Not heavens gate, the gate in the arbor leading to my backyard. The angel was familiar yet not immediately recognizable. Could it be? Is it possible? Why, it sure was, it was the one responsible for sending Esso Tiger on his endless journey so long, long ago. The prankster extraordinaire with the devilish smile, and mischievous spirit, spotted Esso Tiger in the yard as he was passing by. Just as a light switched on for me when the master of mischief passed through the arbor gate, so it did for him as he drove by and saw the silent sentinel for sale in the yard. That familiar face, that memory, the laughs, the racing pulse, it all came back in a four-second-quarter-mile flash. The circle was complete. People reunited, stories retold, three ex-large personalities back on the same thirty-year-old track.

Joy comes in many forms; a new baby, a wedding vow, a winning $20 scratch-off, but this was a different joy. This was the pure joy of past meeting present and memory looking forward. Two grown men, their grown sons, a faded old tiger with a broken tail, renewed spirit and I swear, a small twinkle in his eye, refreshed and reloaded with a new story to tell.

As we lovingly placed Esso Tiger in his new caretaker’s van, the FOR SALE removed and tossed aside, a wave of happiness overcame me. This was the best start to a summer I could remember in a long, long time…

* This is a true story to the extent of this man's memory. I handed over the keys to Esso Tiger back in 2009. It was the right thing to do. His new owner had him repaired and repainted. He gave him the love and attention he so richly deserved. As this story came full circle for the second time I couldn't help but reflect back through the years and years that fiberglass animal sat patiently perched in my backyard amongst the maples. He never took but always gave. This story would never have come about had one man not passed by my yard one random day four summers ago. It is a story with a happy ending as all stories should have. It gives me joy to tell it. I hope it brought a bright spot to your day.