Tipping your Postman with Postage

It is funny how memories work, they are always on and always in your head just waiting for the instant that some peripherally-related topic gives the right neuron a zap, and jiggles and coaxes them out of your head after many decades.

I was reminded of this fact while I was watching my postman sweat and deliver mail in the sweltering sun.  I thought: “what an ass I am, I’ve never once given him a tip on the holidays.”  (Even though technically the uber-bureacratic Postal Service specifically prohibts such activities)

Instantly I was carried back to the neighborhood where I grew up and the memory of a plucky neighborhood matron who was doing a holiday collection for our neighborhood postman.  My step-father’s reply?

No thanks – he gets a tip from me every time I buy a stamp.

A comedic reply that I somehow both shockingily and fondly remember for the first time 3 decades later.  As for my postman?  In the time it took me to write this, God gave him his tip 5 months early – a thunderstorm came and washed away the heat and humidity.  Thanks God – I owe you one – do you take postage? 


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