Post haste

Because I yam who I yam (Popeye joke and Thanksgiving joke in the same line - BAM!), I spent more than a little time playing around with—I mean thoughtfully crafting—different catchy names for this post: Stamp Of Approval. Pushing The Envelope. Going Postal. The Postman Cometh. Special Delivery. But then I decided that, like so many things, I should just trust my Jedi instincts and probably go with the first one I thought of. You're welcome.

We're all aware that one of the ways Cadet Bone Spurs tried to rig the election in his orange-faced favor—along with his billionaire friend and hired thug Postmaster General Louis DeJoy (who will soon be DeGone)—was to cripple the capacity of the postal service to deliver mail-in ballots on time by removing mailboxes and letter-sorting machines.

Like everything else he comes up with in that puny brain and touches with those tiny hands, it failed miserably.

But damage has been done. Morale is lower than ever. Postal employees, already overworked and risking their lives during a pandemic, are working even harder and later. The USPS is now over 9 billion dollars in debt and rising fast. Besides thanking our mailman/woman everyday, there isn't much I can do about the first two. But I am doing something about the third.

I went online last week and decided to buy a bazillion sheets of Forever stamps. There's a much bigger selection on the site than at the post office, so I stocked up: plenty of jolly old St. Nick stamps for the mountain of Christmas cards we'll hopefully be sending out. Some smaller denominations to make up the difference between former postage rates and current ones. And a whole lot just for the fun of it.

All to the tune of about $400.

If you know anything about me, and if you don't by now I don't know what else I can do except bring you to my therapy sessions with me, you know I'm a dog person.

Especially if the dog is a German Shepherd.

So it comes as no surprise to anyone that when I saw the sheet of dog stamps that included my favorite breed, I had to fetch them (sorry). What I meant to say was pony up for them. Does that make these stamps a dog and pony show? Discuss.

Of course, I alway like to go for the funny. So any chance I get I try to add a little humor to my envelopes and bring some well-needed joy (what can I say, I'm a giver) whenever possible. I don't waste them paying bills or answering mail surveys or any mailing I'm sure will be opened by machine. But on those occasions when I know my correspondence will be opened and read by a friend or at least delivered by a human, the Sesame Street stamps above and these wascally wabbit Bugs Bunny stamps fit the bill.

The Count is my favorite character on the Street, but sadly there isn't even vone! sheet of stamps dedicated solely to him. So I got the ones with all the characters. I figured what the hell, at least I don't have to hear Elmo laugh.

And since I grew up on Warner Bros. cartoons—my favorites were the Rabbitt season!/Duck season! battles between Bugs and Daffy Duck, I'd have to be looney tunes not to have bought them. See what I did there?

For my more serious scribblings, and because I love almost everything having to do with space travel, I also ordered the insipiring First Moon Landing stamps. And when serious words cross over to somber, the envelopes get the JFK-in-thoughtful-repose treatment.

I don't collect stamps, but I do enjoy them. Always have. In fact I've written about them on here before.

Anyway, I'd like to encourage you, all nine readers, to remember the joy and surprise of getting a letter from a friend or loved one. A postcard from a foreign land (for the last eight months that'd be anyplace outside your house). Put yourself on an email diet, and start writing actual letters again. They'll be more meaningful, plus you'll have time to think about what you're writing before you hit send. And by hitting send I mean dropping it in the mailbox. If your mailbox wasn't removed by DeJoy.

While you're at it be sure to buy lots of stamps at USPS.com to support the postal service. After all, they're the fine people (not on both sides) who played a huge, instrumental part in saving democracy and delivering the millions of ballots that made sure the Traitor-In-Chief didn't get a second term.

And in my book, that alone makes them a first-class operation.

1 3 4 32 41

They're not lucky lotto numbers. They're not the numbers from LOST (silly reader, those were 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42).

No, these are the denominations of the piles of years-old stamps that have set up house in one of my desk drawers, along with years worth of free return labels from the Braille Institute, Children's Hospital and seasonally-tinged ones from the Salvation Army.

Before the post office started selling their Forever stamps - the ones immune to future postage increases no matter what price you buy them at - they used to up the rate regularly. And the only way to accommodate the new rate was to buy additional stamps to make up the price difference. Which is why the aforementioned desk drawer is lousy with unused one, three, four and five cent stamps.

When the Forever stamps arrived, self-adhesive and promotionally tied in with icons like Buzz Lightyear, James Dean and Harry Potter, the postage leftovers never stood a chance.

But it occurred to me that in my never-ending battle against clutter, piles of paper and books not organized by size or author, one mess I could easily eliminate would be these stamps that've been piling up. All I have to do is use them.

First class postage is 47 cents right now. So a 32, three 4's and a 3-center and my letter is on it's way. Of course, if you're doing the math, that's five stamps per envelope. Which is no problem if the envelope's long enough. But on the smaller one it gets a little crowded.

Using up all these stamps looks less like postage and more like a collage. If I were the recipient, I'd be very happy someone took the time to create it, and marvel at the work that went into fitting them all on there.

Unless it's one of my bills. Then I'd just marvel if the check cleared the first time.

Going postal

I went into the post office the other day to send some books to people. I put the books in the car, went and got the various sized envelopes and mailers, and then stood in line and patiently waited my turn.

When I got up to the counter, as I've done many other times, I asked the counterperson - Phil - if I could borrow some tape to seal the envelopes and tape the labels.

Phil replied, "You know we're not a packaging store." To which I replied, "Oh I know. You're barely a mail delivery service."

Phil begrudgingly handed me a roll of three-inch thick packing tape and no scissors. I walked out, went to the Rite Aid next door, bought some scotch tape, sealed everything and got back in line. Fortunately, I didn't get Phil again, and the counterperson I did have was just as nice as could be.

I went online and wrote a complaint to the Postal Service about my experience with Phil. But I really don't expect much to happen. Maybe they'll send him an email. But as far as his attitude changing, confidence is not high.

While I was proud of myself for having the presence of mind to think of the comeback I had, in retrospect I should've handled it differently. I should've smiled and told Phil I appreciated the tape and could he give me a scissors. I could've said that yes, I understand it's not a packing store but in the past they've been more than happy to accommodate me in that way. And at the end of the transaction, I could've smiled and thanked him for all his help.

But he was a jerk and I let myself turn into one because of it. I'm going to work on that.

I file it under the heading of Lessons I Have To Keep Learning. I cannot let other people's behavior dictate mine. I think it's a more mature way to conduct oneself, and a way of being in the world that will serve me well in the future.

But seriously, this guy was a dick.

Pen and tell her

This post lent itself to yet another in a series of interactive blog post titles that are fun when said fast (remember this one?).

Fun wasn't it? On to the post.

In the same way listening to an audio book isn't really reading it, a written letter isn't the same as email.

I read today that for the typical American household, two months will go by before a personal, handwritten letter arrives. And the time between them is getting even longer. It's been coming for a while. It's not a shock.

But it is sad.

I know we're all about efficiency and fast, but with the slow disappearance of the written word, the handwritten word, there are two other casualties of the electronic age.

Grace. And impact.

No matter how hard it wants to be when it grows up, an email will never be as personal as a letter. It will always be cold and detached.

It will also never be permanent. It isn't something you'll pick up and read every few years, or keep in a trunk as a memory that can instantly take you back to a time, a place and a feeling (forgive me for going all Don Draper on you).

With the touch of a key - by you or someone else - the email is altered, or deleted. Gone.

Also, and this is a lesson I seem to keep learning over and over, with a letter you actually have time to consider whether you should send it. With some emails I've sent, before my finger is off the send button I wish I hadn't.

The impact of the idea that someone takes the time, makes the effort and gives considered thought to exactly the words they want to say to you, then puts them down on paper, can't be overestimated. Or duplicated.

As a result of email, I believe we've cheapened the currency of the written word. We now have the ability to yammer on about any trivial thing back and forth, all day long. There's no picking your fights. Choosing your battles.

With hands on the keyboard, you think it here, it comes out there.

The art, skill and thought required to compose a letter is being lost, as so many things are when an easier way is found. (Can you name three kids who can drive a stick shift? Didn't think so.)

Even though the postal service is faltering, mail won't disappear entirely. The bills, supermarket flyers, Land's End catalogs and election year propaganda will always find a way to the mail box.

But I seriously doubt you'll be looking forward to any of it.