|  Bob Batz Read Bob's bio and previous columns
July 10, 2009
Signs, Signs, Everywhere .
. .
I’ve grown tired of all the warning signs I see every day.
Everywhere I go there are signs, signs and more signs.
Some advise me “No Parking.” Others display the messages “No Passing” and
“Slow – Children at Play.” There’s even a little warning on my car mirror
that says “Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear.”
Many signs are downright dumb. Like the ones that say “No Loitering.”
Shoot, I haven’t loitered anywhere since I was a kid growing up in the 1940s
in Flint, Michigan. Back then I loitered a lot. So did all of my friends.
Loitering was one of our favorite pastimes, like playing marbles, hide ‘n
seek and Pom-Pom-Pullaway.
We also entertained ourselves by making prank phone calls to
stores that sold soft drinks.
We’d dial up a store and when somebody answered, we’d ask “Do you have pop
in the bottle?” and if he or she said “yes,” we’d say “Well, you better let
him out because mom wants him home for dinner.” Then we’d hang up the phone.
Looking back, it wasn’t all that funny but at the time we
thought it was a scream. Nowadays warning signs are as much a part of the
natural landscape as trees and hills.
Lots of lakes boast “No Swimming” signs. They also have “No Fishing” and
“Private Property” signs.
How many times while out driving have you spotted a rectangular yellow
roadside sign with a picture of a deer on it that warns motorists that deer
frequently cross the road at that point?
But have you ever seen a deer standing beside one of those
signs as it waits to cross the road? You bet you haven’t.
Yes, we are surrounded by warning signs.
I see lots of “No Smoking” signs, but given the chubbiness of so many
Americans these days it might be wise to post a few “No Eating” signs, too.
I saw a sign in a tavern the other day that reminded patrons
“You Must Be 21.”
“I think I’m in violation of your sign,” I told the bartender.
“How is that?” he asked.
“Well,“ I said, “I’m 69, not 21. Can I still get a beer?”
The older I get, the more I find myself lashing out at stupid warnings.
The other day after spotting a “Quiet Please” sign at the library, I talked.
Out loud. For 20 minutes.
The next day, after spying a "No Trespassing" sign, I trespassed. I’d never
trespassed before, but when I did I discovered it really isn’t all that much
fun.
Contact Bob at
bbatz@woh.rr.com
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