"So Let It Be Written..."

I don't get much real mail. Most people don't, I suppose, but perhaps I get even less than the average. Certainly each of my two roommates receive more real mail than I do. I should say that I define "real mail" not merely as something that is desirable, but something that was written (or at least typed) by a person and which is definitely hand-addressed. It's exceptionally rare that I get anything which meets that description.

I did recently, or at least I very nearly did. I was astonished to extract from the mailbox something which appeared to be hand addressed. I examined it carefully, having in the past received mass-mailed envelopes which purport to be hand addressed but which are in fact faked. This was the real deal, this one that I received the other day. It bore a name and return address that I did not recognize, and my curiosity was aroused.

Post? Um...

I don't know about postcards. I suppose anybody would say that they are now obsolete, but then so almost anything you would put in the mail, including all communication. Now, a standard card in an envelope is nice to get. It's so much the better if some money or a check falls out, even if that check proves to be in the amount of five dollars. The sentiment in the card may also be rather nice, provided the person sending it is not relying on the message already printed on the card.

A postcard is something else. I'm in a bad position to guess at its value, perhaps. I guess it's supposed to be a whimsical thing where you're at the Arc DeTriomphe, you see a postcard at some cafe with a picture of same, and you think of somebody who's back home. You buy the card, write "wish you were here" on it and   send it away. I just can't deal with that. I would just have to slip that postcard into an envelope, and the whole point is that you don't.

Sealed With A 'Kiss Off'

Nothing motivates me to write quite like being angry, and I am very much so after a piece of mail that came the other day. I've been quite anguished over the fate of the Post Office in recent months, but if this is what I can expect at their hands, then perhaps my sympathies are misplaced. This piece of mail really got my dander up, and I trust that once I've described it you will be moved to remonstrate me for being too understanding.

The first thing I noticed was the addressing on the envelope. There was no return address, and it had what appeared at first glance to be a regular first class stamp but which in fact was a special stamp for pre-sorted mail. Completing the superficial similarity to a letter from a person was the machine-printed false handwriting which directs the mail carrier to deliver the envelope to "Our Neighbor At" my address. Before I even opened it, this envelope had me fuming and swearing.