Many (bark at the) moons ago, I was staying with a friend who is like a brother in Detroit for the weekend. He drove me out to the high school he attended with a mutual friend.
“You gotta see the OZZY sign. I hope it is still there.”
I was immediately intrigued, and my anticipation grew and grew.
We drove around the high school grounds, taking it all in. It was a reminiscence for my friend, a glimpse into what American high schools are like for me.
Like a pro, my friend and tour guide saved the OZZY sign for the last thing we saw before leaving the school grounds.
The OZZY sign was better than I had imagined, subtler yet far more magnificent.
It was just OZZY spray painted on the back of a STOP sign, with the zeds/ZZs crossed, of course.
Maybe it sounds insipid, but STOP implied just that. Do NOT be a teenager, do NOT have fun, and STOP enjoying the human experience! The literal flipside is OZZY!
And my friend and I were probably in our mid-30s or so at that point, so “the Ozzy sign” had stood up to the Michigan elements and lasted AT LEAST a quarter century.
Even though my friend remembered the OZZY sign long after graduating from high school, it is a testament to how important rebellion and freedom are to the human condition.
That’s some damn fine American craftsmanship.
By coincidence, I learned of OZZY’s passing while listening to Detroit radio. The woman behind the mic said, “He got to have a living funeral. How many people can say that? How can he not rest in peace after that?”
RIP, OZZY.
From the NY Times: “Ozzy said he knew exactly how he would be remembered:
“Ozzy Osbourne, born 1948. Died, whenever.
He bit the head off a bat.”
Perry's Pen 
Leave a comment