I am a child of the US Postal Service.

Not that I am the literal progeny of a United States mail delivery system, but everything I did before I left home was made possible by the USPS. Combine, my parents spent over 50 years under their employee. Every candy sale, every field trip expense, and much of my overpriced course packs in college was thanks to those paychecks.

So to see I have a soft spot for the Postal Service is probably expected.

It is the expected thing to collect stamps, but I could never keep them, because I was taken by the mystery of sending and receiving mail.

YEs, I was that kid waiting on the mailman. I was the kid who ran in from school and went straight to the mail slot to see what was there. Considering how little mail I got, I have no idea why and how I was so attuned to the sound of the mail slot opening, but I was. IN those days, a long distance phone call was heavily regulated by Pacific Bell and AT&T, so while mail was slower, Mom and Dad always had stamps. I had plenty of paper. I had time. LET’S WRITE SOME LETTERS.

February is National Letter Writing Month, and I suggest you get out some paper and write something down to someone. Or, write it down and burn it. After I get over the fact that my handwriting is poop, I think of my friends, bored and picking up the mail and expecting bills and junk and getting a poorly handwritten letter! It’s like delayed happiness, delivered by a government employee!

Get out your pen, and scribble some clever turns of phrase. Put it in an envelope, slap a stamp on it, and drop it in a heavily vandalized mailbox. You won’t regret it.