A Man in a Yellow Vest Holding a Sign


I normally spend a large portion of my days crisscrossing the highways and byways of east Dallas and Kaufman county, Texas. And even though I am a Texan through and through, and I have often been accused of being somewhat “country” I have never been able to master the art of “moseying around.” I don’t mosey. I usually feel like I need to hurry even when I have no particular place to be at any certain time. If I am ever late for anything you better send someone to look for me because something unexpected has happened. So, seeing a man in a yellow vest holding a sign is not one of my favorite sites. For the life of me I just cannot understand why these people do not know that I, Randy Franklin, am going to need unimpeded access to this roadway on this date at precisely this moment. If anything, why aren’t they using those flags and cones to direct the giant RV and the blue haired septuagenarian to the shoulder so I can zip on through and meet my self imposed deadline.

My usual reaction to seeing a man in a yellow vest holding a sign is a loud sigh, a rolling of my eyes, a lifting of my hands toward heaven and an occasional steering wheel pound, followed by literal minutes of heart racing anxiety as I search my heart for the sins that have brought this curse upon my life.

Lately I have noticed that this approach has not been adding a lot of joy and light to my daily commutes so I decided to try another approach. I took a deep breath, turned the ac to high, cranked up some tunes on the radio, looked out the window at the beautiful day that the Lord had made and said a little prayer for that poor man having to wear that yellow vest and hold that sign.


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