There has been a lot of talk lately about Thriftway’s new electronic sign and whether it’s in keeping with Vashon’s quaint and crunchy rural character.

I’ve had a few weeks to think about it, and I’ve decided that the new, ultra-modern blinking lights don’t bother me at all.

The new reader board is still perched below the store’s 1960s-era neon sign, and that part of the sign is the most important thing to me. I couldn’t live in such a rainy climate without at least a little vintage neon melting some color down onto the dark, wet streets at night. 

Or maybe I’m sanguine about the sign because something else has been bugging me all summer long.

I’m talking about the attack of the killer sandwich boards.

Maybe you’ve tripped over one of the seven or eight sandwich boards that are regularly splayed all over the corner of Vashon Highway and Bank Road each weekend, or maybe, like me, you’ve simply noticed that the low-tech signage trend has spun out of control.

It starts at the intersection of Vashon Highway and Cove Road and continues well past the movie theater. On a recent day, I counted 37 sandwich boards touting a range of enterprises: tarot card readings, a computer repair shop, a 24-hour gym, a couple of farm stands, several restaurants, an espresso hut. The list goes on and on and on.

If I had a sandwich for each of those boards, I wouldn’t have to go to Subway for a couple of months.

There’s one for almost every store, it seems, and even a few for businesses located far from town.

“R.R. Ties — 2 miles,” anyone?

That sandwich board, adorned with a helpful arrow pointing west, makes a frequent appearance in the town’s main intersection. Really? Are railroad ties that much in demand that every man, woman and child on Vashon needs to be reminded, every weekend, where they can be purchased?

Most of the sandwich boards are simply overkill. Take the one in front of the quilt shop.

The store hangs brightly colored quilted banners outside the shop most days, and it also has a pretty nice sign and a big picture window where anyone can look in and see quilts, quilts and more quilts. It’s obviously a quilt shop. But just to make sure no one blinks and misses all of those visual clues, the owners have also set out a big sandwich board on the sidewalk.

Red Bicycle Bistro has a poster case — anyone who is interested can stop and check out the venue’s coming musical attractions. Do we really need a huge sandwich board a few feet away, screaming out the names of the same bands?

You’d never know the Island is a town full of painters and illustrators by looking at Vashon’s sandwich boards. Few are artful — even those that advertise upcoming arts events.

There are some notable exceptions.

I love the shabby-chic, peeling paint on Bob Bakery’s board, and Café Luna’s two sandwich boards are pleasingly moon-shaped.

But further north, near The Beachcomber’s office in the Windermere’s building, is ground zero of the sandwich board explosion. Windermere, for instance, has not one but two sandwich boards out on the sidewalk in front of it. Next door, every business in Vashon Village, it seems, has a sandwich board propped near the highway. Sometimes, on windy days, half of them fall over.

Is this really the only way for local businesses and non-profits to get the message across?

If you have a better idea and can convince local businesses and non-profits to de-clutter our sidewalks and street corners, I’ll buy you a sandwich.

— Elizabeth Sheperd is the arts editor for The Beachcomber.