"Here. You get Randolph, NYU, Chapel Hill, Wellesley, Wilmington and Mt. Holyoke.
Morgan got the Georgia Tech Alumni and Golf Digest. I got the dentist and DMV."
"Well mom, you know…."
Yeah, I know.
The mail. Remember when it used to be fun? Waiting for that to-die-for letter from the cute kid from summer camp. The Sears catalog. A five-dollar bill from Grandma.
As much as I embrace the electronic age—email, text messaging, instant chat—I still have a soft spot for the US Postal Service and that original thing called, "Mail".
Yeah, e-greetings are convenient. But schlep through the rain to the curb and for once, find something personally addressed to me that’s not from the dentist (sorry Michelle)? There’s nothing like it. Nothing.
I try to remember that when a sister in law is going through a rough time. When a Bus Stop Mommy is one teacher’s note away from rocking back and forth in a corner. Or I just want someone to know I’m thinking of them….just because.
And you can balk all you want about postal rate increases (and I have and will again take creative license to write about it) but do me a favor first: Go to Fed Ex or UPS. Hand them a letter. Tell them you need it delivered 5 states away in 2-3 days. And you want them to deliver it for 44 cents.
Call a courier. Hand them a letter. Tell them you need it delivered across town by tomorrow. And you want them to deliver it for 44 cents.
For me, the Inbox will never fully replace the thrill of the Mail Box. Never.
