“Clop! That car came to a complete stop!”
Myah’s cry startled me; I had not realized that I had verbalized my wonder at the rarity of stop-sign observance. We were on the lawn of the house I rent, and her amazement echoed mine about the adherence to an ordinance common to most communities in these United States: A full and complete stop. When I mentioned it to her mother, Lauren advised me that Myah mimics her own outcries to speeders and stop sign sliders. But they do not live on a hot corner.
In other parts of the world there is obedience to the red and white octagonal that is known as a stop sign; here on the hot corner, that symbol should be called a “stoptional” sign. According to an insurance company’s Web site, the first “Stop” sign was installed in Michigan in 1915. It was 2 feet by 2 feet square, with black letters on a yellow background. In 1954, the Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices mandated that all stop signs be octagonal and red in color. The octagonal shape is recognizable to observant drivers by its shape, both from the front and the back.
For those who might murmur into their tea, “This is much ado about nothing,” I almost roared at a woman making a “Pittsburgh Left” — that maneuver when the light changes where one driver tries to get a jump on oncoming traffic by making an abrupt left turn. This woman’s car was pointed directly at me and my three-year-old granddaughter. We were crossing at the corner where Hannah Crutchfield was killed, and the woman ignored the laws of left turns about yielding to oncoming traffic. She almost waffled two pedestrians named CJ and Myah. I stood with my hand up, arm outstretched and glared at her. The broad bow of her SUV was pointed at us, and she had the nerve to whip her hand over the steering wheel, urging me to continue crossing; she apparently had pressing business that permitted her to bypass safety rules.
My house sits at the intersection of two streets; at each of the four corners, there is a sign that reads, “Stop. All Ways.” None of the houses on that corner have fences, and when I play “freeze tag,” or “hide and go seek” or soccer on the lawn with my 5-year-old granddaughter, I caution her to stay away from the street because drivers rarely come to a complete stop. Some drivers slow down and look both ways before gassing on through, but few come to a stop. Drivers have a variety of approaches to their infractions, most of which involve a slow crawl through the stop while scanning left and right for approaching cars that are also likely to be ignoring the stop. When my granddaughter and I are gamboling on the lawn, I am hyper-vigilant, making sure that she does not go onto the “non-stop” street.
When Myah was a baby, I prammed her about Irvington, taking care at the corners to look for cars. When she was able to walk, I taught her to stop at the corners and look all ways before crossing. I gave her the responsibility of signaling, “It’s safe.” When we walk to Ellenberger Park, we pass two stop signs, and I make it a point to have her stop and look all ways. I do this with her as a defensive measure, and because I know that the neighborhood drivers will not stop.
The hot corner’s “stoptional” signs make it a hostile place for a child to play.
cjon3acd@att.net