Tales From Exit 22 by Al Batt

Time for a pop quiz.

There is only one question, so take your time.

What color is a yield sign?

The yield sign was added to the Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices in 1954 to assign the right of way at intersections where stop signs weren’t required. The sign was a point-down equilateral triangle with a black legend and border on a yellow background.

The yield sign was yellow then, but it isn’t now.

In 1971, the yield sign was changed to a red background with a white center.

I managed to obey the yield signs before stopping to get gas. I filled the tank, doubling the value of my car. As I tried to use the gas pump as a windbreak, it occurred to me that my grandfather paid about the same for a week’s worth of gas as I pay per gallon today.

It was cold, windy, icy and snowing. A friend said that 35 mph was the maximum speed on I-35. The gas pump made a crummy windbreak. Every path has its puddle.

Someone somewhere, it might have been me, was thinking, “This would be a good place to put the state of Arizona.”

According to the National Snow & Ice Data Center, the popular NSIDC, it can be too warm to snow, but not too cold to snow. Snow can occur as long as there is a source of moisture and the air is cooled. I hope you find that comforting.

It wasn’t too warm to snow on my journey to unload all that superfluous money I’m burdened with. I shopped. It’s the way I go sideways from Tuesday and may be Batt’s Folly, but this isn’t meant to be the moan of a mistreated man.

It’s the season of giving. Smiling and saying “Merry Christmas” is a nice gift, but it’s difficult to wrap. Nevertheless, a smile and a friendly greeting are nice ways of leaving footprints deep enough to be followed easily and might cause a rash of paying it forward. I’d threatened to buy toilet paper, facial tissues and paper towels for everyone on my list. Those are thoughtful gifts. Things everyone needs, but few want as gifts. If you get such gifts, be appreciative. Everything good begins with gratitude.

I bought no useful paper gifts. I bought things that loved ones wanted. I planned on rewarding myself for my fine shopping by buying some cashews.

Meatloaf sang “Life is a lemon and I want my money back.” Lyrics like that are why I like meatloaf the food more than Meatloaf the singer.

My eyeglasses had broken and I needed a pair of reading glasses to employ until my new spectacles arrived. I stood by a store display of $1 glasses and tried on a few models, hoping to avoid lemons and find the perfect combination. I put on a pair and looked down to see two feet. That’s a blessing. Two is a good number. A friend just lost part of a leg to diabetes. He’s taking it in stride better than a one-legged man might be expected to. His positive attitude uplifts me. I bought the cheap readers.

My wife and I ring bells often for the Salvation Army. We do it for selfish reasons. It makes us feel good. Every person is faced with a world to better. Ringing the bells is a way we’ve found to make this a better world.

We wish every day. It’s the human way, but Christmas is the season of the wish. If wishes were fishes, I know where I’d be. I’d be casting my nets into the sea. We probably wish and expect too much. It’s dfficult not to.

I had an eye exam recently. I was seated with my eyes pressed against a phoropter while I peered at a Snellen chart, an eye chart with lines of letters decreasing in size from the top of the chart to the bottom. The phoropter is a Star Wars-looking contraption that allows an optometrist to change lenses and settings to determine what visual correction is needed. In my case, prescription eyeglasses. I had my chin on the chin rest and was staring through the odd-looking visor, when the optometrist said, “Let me raise that down a little.”

It wouldn’t hurt us to do that to our expectations.

I tossed the money I was going to spend on cashews into a Salvation Army kettle.

I enjoyed giving the world something it needed for Christmas.

Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.