I have a thing for my mailman. I don’t know what he looks
like, or how old he is. I’m not even sure he’s a man. Still, I have a thing.
Not the kind of thing that makes me get butterflies in my stomach and daydreams
in my heart. More the kind of thing that makes me wish I could package common
sense and gift it to him.
This thing started shortly after I moved. I received my mail
and the occasional piece for the previous homeowners. One day I noticed the
carrier had written the surnames of those who receive mail here, in Sharpie, on
the inside of the mailbox door. I
experienced a brief episode of appreciation, thinking this would eliminate
delivery of others’ bills and letters to my box.
Now, two years later, I not only regularly receive mail for
the previous residents, but seem to have taken on numerous tenants as well.
Some of the letters arrive with little question marks near the address, urging
me to make the final call on whether the name on the envelope matches one of the
two names written in big black letters on the mailbox. I get packages too.
Vitamins I think. Hopefully vitamins and not mail order heart meds.
Every time I sort the misdelivered mail from mine, I write
NOT AT THIS ADDRESS on the envelopes, carry them back to the box, and raise the
red flag, which means THERE IS OUTGOING MAIL IN HERE. My mailman stops, stuffs my mail and others’ in around the
outgoing mail, lowers the flag, and carries on. He doesn’t stop at my next-door
neighbors’. He doesn’t need to because he just put their mail in my box too.
I tried toting all this mail to the post office and politely
explaining the problem. The clerk apologized and asked if there was anything
else she could help me with.
“A book of stamps, please.”
“Love stamps okay?”
“Do you have any Dislike stamps? And a box. I need to ship
some common sense. I’ll need delivery confirmation on that.”
Two days later the same misdelivered mail was back.
So my thing for the mailman continues. And Shaun, your
vitamins are here along with a postcard offering up a free omelet for your
birthday (Happy Birthday!). Donna, your new insurance cards have arrived. I
wish you good health, considering it may be years before you have proof of
coverage in hand. And Sherry, dear neighbor, please don’t be suspicious if you
see me at your mailbox.
It’s just a mailman thing.
