By David Templeton

At a place in the country where a narrow road meets a wider road near a big green tree, a little stop sign stood straight and still and plain and simple and silent and red. At first, it was very, very happy, ready to stop any car turning from the narrow road onto the wider road. Though it was not a very big or hard or fancy job, to the little stop sign, it was enough, and it wanted to do the job as well as it could.

But soon the little stop sign became sad, and then sadder, and then even sadder than that — because no cars driving on the narrow road ever stopped at the sign.

“Why are you sad, little stop sign?” asked the big green tree at the side of the road.

“I am sad because no car will stop for me,” said the sign. “Every day, I stand straight and still and red, but when cars drive up on the narrow road, the drivers of the cars only slow down a little and then turn onto the wider road as if I was not standing here telling them to stop.”

“Why do you think the drivers never stop, little stop sign?” asked the tree.

The little stop sign thought about this.

“Perhaps it is because I am too little,” it replied. “If I was taller, then the drivers would stop for me. Maybe if I had a long piece of wood, I could be very tall, and then people will stop and I will not be so sad.”

“I do not think that is why the people do not stop for you,” said the tree. “But here is a long piece of wood I do not need anymore. You may have it to make yourself taller.”

So, the sign took the wood and made itself taller, but still the cars would not stop.

“Little stop sign,” said the tree. “Are you still sad?”

“Yes, I am still sad,” said the tree. “I am taller now, but still the drivers will not stop.”

“Why do you think the drivers will not stop?” asked the tree.

“Perhaps I am the wrong color,” said the sign. “If I was yellow or pink or blue or green, instead of being red, I am sure the cars would stop for me.”

“I do not think that is why the people still will not stop for you,” said the tree. “But here are some cans of paint that fell off a truck. You may use it to paint yourself a different color.”

So, the sign took the paint and made itself yellow, but still the cars would not stop. Then it made itself pink, but even then the cars would not stop. So it made itself blue, and then green, and still they would not stop.

“Little stop sign,” said the tree. “Are you still sad?”

“Yes, I am still sad,” said the tree. “I have been yellow and pink and blue and green, but the drivers will not stop.”

“Why do you think the drivers will not stop?” asked the tree.

“Perhaps I am too straight and still and plain and simple,” said the sign. “If I could bounce up and down and make noise and flash very bright light at the cars, I am sure they would stop for me.”

“I do not think that is why the people still will not stop for you,” said the tree. “But here is a bouncy trampoline and a trumpet and some carnival lights that were left behind when a small traveling circus stopped here a long time ago. You may use them to bounce up and down and make noise and flash bright light at the cars.”

So, the sign took the trampoline and the trumpet and the carnival lights and when cars came driving down the narrow road it bounced up and down and made lots of noise and flashed bright light at them.

But, though some of them did slow down just a little bit more than usual, the cars did not stop.

“Little stop sign,” said the tree. “Are you still sad?”

“Yes, I am still sad,” said the tree. “I have made myself taller. I have changed my color to yellow and pink and blue and green. I have bounced up and down and made noise and flashed lights at the drivers, but still the cars will not stop. I think I will never be happy again.”

“Little stop sign,” said the tree. “It was never because you were too little or too straight and still or too plain and simple or too silent or too red that the cars will not stop for you. They will not stop because some people are assholes. Whenever a car does not stop, just say, ‘Screw those people,’ and go right on doing your job the best you can. And perhaps that will be enough.”

The little stop sign thought about this and understood that the tree was right.

So, from then on, every time a car came driving down the narrow road, the sign stood straight and still and plain and simple and silent and red, and when car did not stop, the sign thought, “Assholes” and sometimes said, “Screw those people,” and went right on doing its job.

And even if the little stop sign was not always very, very happy, at least it was no longer sad – and that was enough.