My life as the world's oldest sign-spinner

Time to add another job to my LinkedIn profile: Sign-spinner.

There I was, on the sidewalk in Concord, becoming possibly the first-ever sign spinner born during the Kennedy administration. While I usually don't usually brag about my dexterity, I only dropped the sign a few times (more on that later) and my knuckles only got a few injuries from the cardboard.

Kind of a success.

Yes, sign-spinning. On a busy street corner. By someone who has a grandchild.

It was Easter Sunday and I was "greeting" at the church where Mrs. Brad and I now attend. It's an awesome, energized, growing place and we're thrilled to be a part of it. I regularly help greet people anyway, so when asked if I could jump in to help on the "Super Bowl Sunday of Christianity," (apologies to Jesus) I was all in. Easter greeting!

I went to the pregame meeting and got my assignment. Along with Chris and S.J. (both millennials), I was sent out to hold a sign and wave at people who drive on the busy thoroughfare next to the church campus.

The sign had a friendly phrase and S.J. mentioned that I should cover up the part that said, "Happy Mother's Day" (which, to be fair, was in small print. And isn't Easter kind of a better version of Mother's Day? And really, shouldn't every day be Mother's Day?).

I was there.

Me. A gray-haired man whistling an Eagles song while holding the sign. And feeling awkward. Because of the second sentence in this paragraph.

Until . . . I thought about spinning the sign. Chris and S.J. were bouncing their signs and waving at friendly motorists – many of whom pulled into the church's multiple parking lots. But I starting spinning the sign. I was a sign spinner, like the young people who dance and spin signs along busy roadways. All I needed were ear buds and some hip-hop on my phone.

I twirled the sign. I rotated it 360 degrees. I went faster, wondering if I could get the sign spinning fast enough that it would lift me off the ground.

People honked and waved, most likely at Chris and S.J., but possibly at me ("Mommy, is that grandpa spinning the sign?" "No, dear, Grandpa is dead. But bless that man's heart. He probably doesn't know where he is.")

I got better at it. I checked my watch a few times, seeing how much longer I needed to stay out and I dropped the sign a couple of times and picked it back up. Nobody noticed.

Then I went for a spectacular spin and . . .

Dropped the sign, which slid into the street.

I bent down to pick it up, stepped out and realized that . . . I stopped traffic.

The sign-spinning old man clumsily dropped his sign in the middle of a busy street just as the traffic backed up. How sad!

The driver in the first car smiled and waved at me. I waved back, staggering back to the sidewalk.

And thought, "I have a grandchild. I am spinning signs."

Then I thought more about it.

It was Easter. I was spinning a sign that invited people to hear the most important message in the world: The resurrection of Jesus and the opportunity for new life.

So I kept spinning. And waving.

But frankly, I may avoid sign-spinning next Easter. Because I'm a grandfather who was born during the Kennedy administration, for crying out loud. Let the kids do that.

I'll get a rocking chair and shout at cars to slow down.

And reminisce about my old days as a sign-spinner.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.