HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL

I am hopelessly in love with MAIL. You know, the kind that is hand-delivered by a real, live uniformed postal worker. I’m sure this love affair started back when I was a wee lass receiving sweet letters on occasion from my grandparents. I know we’ve gone over this before, but it bears mentioning again, that I didn’t get a lot of special attention growing up. Not only was I was one of five kids, but I was the dreaded middle child. Sally got attention because she was the oldest child, Bill got attention because he was the first son, and Paul got attention (and everything he wanted) because he was the baby of the family. That left me and Susan to fend for ourselves for the most part. Okay fine...that’s not strictly true...except for maybe the part about Paul. But I have a point here.

The point is, during my somewhat deprived childhood, nothing made me feel more loved than finding an envelope in the mailbox with my name printed neatly on the front. This love affair with mail continued while I was away at college, thanks to lovely, newsy handwritten letters which arrived on a regular basis, mostly from my mother. So okay, I guess those letters indicate that maybe I did get some special attention, but let’s not get side-tracked here. The point is I remember the excitement I felt just spying an envelope or two through the glass door of my college mailbox.

The bottom line to this whole sordid tale is that even today, I practically skip to the mailbox to get my mail. I mean I know the chances of me getting a handwritten letter are slim to none these days, but that whole mystery thing is still there. What if that rebate from Alltel shows up today? What if Citibank decides to offer me 1.99% financing AND waive those pesky balance transfer fees? Or what if a reclusive millionaire decides to send me a big check just for being me? You never know what awesomeness the mail will bring.

And the good news is my mail has not let me down of late. Every other day I get a funny or sweet thank you note from one of the kids in Emily’s class. I liked the last one which came from a boy and was short and sweet..."Thanks so much for the gift card. I hope my parents let me spend it some time soon!"

But this brings me to the bad news. I can’t bring myself to throw some of this graduation stuff away. Oh, I can probably toss the thank you cards...but what about those great graduation announcements...from this year and last...okay, and from the year before. My attachment to any old sweet thing I’ve ever received in the mail is one of the reasons we had to dig that basement under the house...because I needed someplace to store my boxes and boxes of old letters and cards. I’m sorry, but while I have breath within me, I have to save my mail. Although I did go through the boxes at some point and bravely discarded every mail piece from anyone I didn’t remember. I’m not a hoarder, after all. And I hereby give my kids full permission to toss those boxes of old letters wholesale into the dumpster immediately following my funeral. Don't feel guilty for not reading them...like I did when we went through my parents' stuff.

I’ve made myself the same lunch for three days running now. Because I just discovered how incredibly delicious tuna is with Wheat Thins. I used to always eat my tuna with saltines...but now I’m enlightened.