Signatures and stuff

I need everyone to get out a pen and sign their name on a random piece of paper. Seriously. Right now. Just pretend you're signing a bill or something.
I'll wait.

Did we all sign our names?
Good.
Now look at your signature. Can you read your name? First and last? Or does your signature more closely resemble the results of a chicken trying to scratch its way through the paper using a pen? If you answered yes to my first question, my guess is you're probably an American. If, on the other hand, your signature looks like something that could be found on the inside of an Egyptian pyramid, you're probably Dutch.

After years of pondering American signatures, I've yet to figure out why, but the bottom line is that most Americans, when signing their name, sign an at least semi-legible version of their name. Dutch people, on the other hand, will draw two parentheses, scratch a line, dot a few invisible i's, and tell you, "See, that loop right there? That says 'Maassen'. See the 'm'? No? Oh well, I see it."

I remember seeing the very first letter signed by an American. It came from the middle school I was attending, and had been signed by the female principal. Her signature was just gorgeous. The capital 'K' and 'G" looked nothing like the K's and G's I'd learned in the Netherlands. Right then and there, I decided I would try to sign my name like her. Anyone who could sign their name like that had to be totally awesome.

And so I practiced, and practiced. And practiced some more. And succeeded to a certain degree. My capital "J" is an American "J", and there are no odd hieroglyphics in my signature at all. Dutch people always tell me that my signature is so legible. Americans, on the other hand, are not so sure. Yes, one can recognize my first and last name, if one tries, but it doesn't jump out at you. And my middle name is missing altogether, as is my maiden name. You see, many American women I know like to sign their name with every single name they've ever used. Since in my case that would make my signature something like thirty letters long, that was just not an option.

I honestly always thought I had a typical American signature, until, you guessed it, Georgia. No one anywhere has ever said anything about my signature, until I went to renew my driver's license two years ago, and signed my name. The dds lady looked at me, looked at my signature, looked at me again, and said, "You wanna sign like that honey?"
I looked at my signature, "Well, uhm, yes."
"You sure?"
"Uhm, yeah. That is how I sign my name."
"Oh. OK."
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"Oh no. It's just most people write their name out in full."

And that's true. Most people do. Which raises the question with me; what's the point of having a signature if anyone can imitate it? Isn't the point of a signature that it's unique to you? But anyway, I digress.

The reason I wanted to write about signatures today is because I had a true dilemma when it came time to sign my certificate of naturalization. The actual certificate tells you to sign your "true and complete name", which in my humble opinion means you sign every single name on the certificate, which in turn means I wouldn't actually sign the paper, as much as write out my name. Before I possibly ruined a certificate with a $400 replacement value, I decided to ask an immigration officer. She appeared confused by my question, "Why, you just sign your name."
"Yes, of course. But do I sign and include my middle name too, or do I sign with my normal signature?"
"Well." Slight pause and a frown, "You just sign your name"
"But when I sign my name, I don't sign my entire name. It looks more like a chicken scratch."
"Oooh. Well in that case, write out your full name."

So when I came home, what did I do? You guessed it, I practiced signing my full and complete name on a piece of scrap paper. I hadn't done that since I  got married was in 7th grade, but there you have it. I practiced and practiced and practiced. And then took a deep breath and signed my name. And forgot the "e" on the end of my last name.
Oops.

Oh well. At least it's legible.