sketchbook stories: the post office
signed, sealed, delivered
Once there were three on our little island: the social network in an era before social networks were even a thought. Brass and glass boxes lining the walls. Meetinghouses for neighborly gossip. The air stale, a whiff of paste. Ballpoint pens chained to the counter. The soft glow of banker’s lamps. The mail carrier filling her bag. And always, a postmistress.
In those days, stamps were cancelled, not culture. Handwritten letters were a news source never questioned.
And now, one post office remains. Still the cornerstone of the community. Mail, its currency. The postmistress and the mail carrier, its lifeblood.
So eloquent, Amie. So many personal memories stirred up from your words! Our culture has lost a great deal more than it realizes. And for the record, I still save cancelled stamps when I receive mail, bundle them and send them on to the Women's Institute, who packages them to sell to collectors, then use the money from that for women's programs worldwide. It's inspiration to continue to write real letters and send real mail. Thanks for the post office memories!
sweet...lovely, all those childhood memories right here.