"Signature, Please" by Annette L. Brown

 – “And you’re sassy, too!”

Swallowed words gathered in my throat to spit his direction.

Annette L. Brown is a mother, wife, mediocre cook but competent baker. She lives on an almond farm in central California where she enjoys time with family and friends. She has recently become serious about refining her craft and feels privileged to enjoy the support of two writing groups: the Taste Life Twice Writers and the Light Makers’ Society. Annette is inspired by nature, family, beauty, and humor and has had pieces reflecting those inspirations published in Cathexis Northwest Press, Personal Story Publishing Project fall 2022 anthology Twists and Turns, and Flash Fiction Magazine.

Author’s Talk

Annette L. Brown

My mother-in-law calls them “OS’s,” old stories, the ones we tell over and over. I imagine that as we grow older, our world shrinks, so we rely on those stories as conversation fodder. Though I’m still a participant among new stories, I find there are many “OS’s” rumbling around in my head. They occasionally shoot from the buried places in my mind like lottery balls. They look me in the eye, asking, “Now?” That is, “Now, are you going to write me down?” Sometimes, I’m not ready. Sometimes, I oblige. The beauty of writing a story down is that once it’s written, I’ve given it to the page and it no longer clamors to be told, thereby saving friends and family from being the victim of an “OS.”  

This takes me to Randell Jones' invitation to write about being lost and/or found. The story of meeting my college advisor came immediately to mind when I read the prompt. It’s an OS that has been making a ruckus for many years, and it fit the prompt—two birds, one stone. Nice.  

During the meeting with my advisor, I certainly felt lost, and it was especially difficult because I was looking forward to a conversation with him. He was the chair of the English Department. He could help me with pacing my credit load around my three and one-half hour a day volleyball practices or with securing an independent study should practice interfere with a required course. But he had no interest in helping. 

Fortunately, all the help I needed had been braided into my marrow during years of growing up with my father. His impact is encapsulated in these lines excerpted from a poem I wrote three years after he passed away when I found six voicemails from him I didn’t realize were on my phone: 

his voice vivid–
          deep, rich, its rhythm the backdrop to nearly all my life,
          hues of comfort-safety-reflection-reassurance-support, 
           the first sound of love I ever knew. 

Because my father always treated me with respect, even when I was in trouble, he taught me how to treat myself with respect—which ultimately guided me through the moments of “Signature, Please.” I hope the story serves as a reminder that while we cannot keep people from dismissing us, we can move past their words to be our own best support. Enjoy the read. Cheers!—Annette L. Brown