Yeow! Ouch! It's starting to smart. Another postal increase goes into effect tomorrow! I can feel the pain in my wallet already. The price of everything will soon rise!
I used to be a prolific letter writer, most were handwritten. For the majority of my life, personal computers were something out of science fiction. I honestly thought we'd have flying cars before p.c.'s! Even after they became popular, none of my friends or relatives owned one.
My letters were absolutely beautiful, too! I bought scenic cards of all sizes that were blank inside until filled with my words, which often extended all the way down the back cover. As a finishing touch, I would place a lovely sticker upon back of the envelope that matched the scene or theme of the card. Plus I used pretty or unusual commemorative stamps on the front. Many recipients told me they never threw out my correspondence. All but one of these people are gone now. The double zero years will always be known as the death decade to me.
Often, I feel like a dinosaur. I'm still struggling to adjust to emails and computers. I don't tweet or text, or even know the difference between the two. And frankly, I don't care to learn. In the early 1990's I did own a word processor in attempt to start a professional writing career. It was already obsolete when I purchased it. The thing was little more than a glorified typewriter.
Back in the 90's, during my Stuart years, our neighborhood was a assigned a new mailman. He was a big, overweight fellow with a beard. Soon, we were issued a statement informing us that the mailboxes had to be relocated out by the road, or at least to a spot where the mailman wouldn't have to step out of his truck. -- If that guy was ever forced to actually do some walking, he wouldn't have been lugging around that big butt & gut!
My father attached our mailbox to the lamp post half-way down our driveway. We had an acre lot, so anyone attempting to steal our mail had to trespass on our property, unlike here!
Of course sometimes mailmen are forced to come to the door; packages are too large for the box, or a letter requires a signature. My favorite mailmen just say, "Hello" hand me my mail and leave! It really bugs me when they try to make small talk or comment on my mail. The bearded one was a really intrusive type!
When I was going thru my ordeal in court, (it was quite a scandal in the neighborhood!) he actually had the nerve to ask me why was I getting all these letters from a lawyer and the courthouse. I didn't answer because it was none of his business! But I'm sure he got all the gory details from the neighbors. When he spotted one at a mailbox, he'd always turn off his truck to chat.
Back in the 90's, most aspiring writers still had to snail-mail a manuscript to a publisher. Every time I got a manuscript back rejected, (and this happened a lot!) the bearded one would lean on his horn. -- This made me want to go after him with a knife or a club! I would rather have my failures kept quiet. But he made sure the whole neighborhood knew!
Once, I sent my friend & neighbor, Gertrude, a birthday card with a large celebratory sticker on the back. I wanted it to be a surprise!!! -- Well the big mouth in the blue uniform told her he picked up a birthday card addressed to her from the mailbox down the street, and to expect it the next day!
Gertrude disliked this guy equally as much as I did. She resented paying someone to relocate her mailbox. As a snowbird, she told of her mailman up in Chicago who walked from house-to-house with a big pack on his back. Unfortunately, we were stuck with this sloth for a long time.
Eventually, he was transferred. Gertrude & I went to the RED LOBSTER to celebrate! Less than a year later, my father decided to put our house up for sale. We moved to Vero Beach and the decade of death began.
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