Correspondence

Everyday it’s the same ritual. I come home and maneuver my car into it’s parking spot. Days that my spot is taken will find me quite off. Mostly it is available and so starts the u turn and parallel parking job. Some days this maneuver is harder than other days, but I always end up in the same place, with the trunk of the maple tree visible through my rear passenger window. I depend on dependably.

I get out of my car and head for the next stop. The mail box. I always get the mail right after parking. I need to feel secure in my routine. I rely on the undeviating rhythm of the afternoon’s duties. Things need to go according to plan. As I open my mail box and grab my three notices of new mortgage rate options, a coupon to Bed Bath and Beyond and the ever present bill I let out a sigh of relief. Now my evening can begin.

There is something about written correspondence coming to your house that is more gratifying than a phone call or email. The first part is simply that each envelope is a mini treasure hunt. Just because the package says “Confidential” doesn’t preclude your finding an advertisement for a new redwood deck, a coupon for free parking at the local Indian Casino, or a pile of money mailed out by some crazy person who picked your address at random. Each notice is a shock of minute excitement and they all build to a crescendo of enjoyment that is sorely required after a long day of the same old thing.

Conventional mail also brings with it certain benefits that are hard to come by with email or the telephone. You can read it at your leisure. While on the couch, standing in the doorway or sitting on the kitchen counter. Unwanted mail is not as annoying as unwanted email. I don’t mind heaps of junk mail the way I do an email box full of SPAM. Wading through the minutia that is removing fake emails from my Inbox is vastly different then thumbing through bright colorful postcards and free samples of baby diapers. It’s pleasant for me to sift through forty-five absurd coupons for floor wax, printed checks or even personalized pet tags. Plus I can open then all without fear of any nasty computer viruses.

Some times even legitimate mail arrives. A card from a friend, an invitation to a party or a three dollar off coupon to “Hank's House of Hot Dogs.” I recall only on a few occasions the sheer misery I have felt upon opening the door of my mailbox and seeing nothing but the nasty glare of bare metal. It’s a defeating feeling and one which I’m not fond of enduring. It says no one cares, not even your creditors. Luckily I can only remember a time or two where this has happened, and once or twice it was because my wife had gotten the mail early. This is a practice that is frowned upon and the action must be substantiated with a very worthy cause. Expecting money in the mail is one of the few excuses that will not warrant some form of reproach.

Sure we get paper cuts, and sure it fills up your mailbox but really aren’t those reasons just a little petty? I have a recycle bin and a club store pack of band-aids, I think I can overcome these road blocks. I say bring on the correspondence.