A Mailman by any other name

The mail has always fascinated me. From the time I was a small child, I wanted to be the recipient of mail I could hold in my hand, mail where my name appeared in the little glassine window proudly proclaiming that this piece of mail belonged to me and me alone. Once after coming upon a postage paid advert card in one of my grandmother's magazines, I carefully filled out the details, including my name and Mammy's address and phone number then popped it into the mail box. I didn't get mail from them, but my grandparents got some rather annoying calls for years from them trying to sell hearing aids to my perfectly hearing elders...and after all that, for me still no mail.




It seems that no matter what town you live in, your Post Office is one of the first places of which you want to know the location . You actively hunt down that (usually) brick facade, the familiar Eagle insignia posted on the wall with the words United States Post Office. The grounds are well kept and nice shrubs usually skirt the front of the building. The towns in our county are lucky to have some lovely examples of architecture. Chesterfield and Cheraw especially come to mind. It would be a pity to lose these buildings to progress. They have meant so much to so many people over the years, from the Mail Carriers to the workers behind the counter, always smiling always friendly and available to give information you might need. They've even helped with directions to unfamiliar places.



As a young Navy wife, the mail carrier was always someone I looked forward to seeing come up our walkway as he delivered mail from Mac who was often far from home aboard a ship. I wouldn't wait to get inside the house to open the letters that arrived but would rip them open and begin devouring the words right there on the porch before I turned to walk back into the house, mail still clutched in ever tightening fingers. This was my link with someone I loved and missed.



The singing group Alabama had a song out about the rigors of mail delivery that covered the history of America's mail service from the Pony Express right up thru delivery in space. At the time no one had heard of e-mail or even dreamed of it. In the cities I lived in here in the US they were Letter Carriers, in England they were Posties (and walked right in the front door to lay the mail on the entry hall table) and of course collectively they are mostly known as Mailmen, weather they are male or female. I was in awe of our Rural carriers who could sit in the middle of the front seat, drive the car while reaching for the mail bundle at their side as they pulled up to the mailbox without knocking it down. Here in the south we of course know our Postmen by name. In Chesterfield it was at first Scott then it was Bonnie...here we have Jimmy. Their cars are personal vehicles with many miles on the odometers. Sometimes we see the familiar mail Jeep, but not often. Don't get me wrong, the job is still hard the hours still long, the roads still rough and it's not one I'd want to take on myself. I had still much rather be the recipient than the deliverer. Do I appreciate our Postal Carriers? You're darned right I do...here's to all the Jimmy's out there, still doing the hard work.