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Blogs by Robert A. Mills
USPS 4/27/2013 5:38:33 AM
What are we going to do about the Post Office? I do not know. Just let it go? Why not?
Back in the fall of 2012, they said Saturday delivery would come to an end by Memorial Day, 2013. Congress, in its infinite wisdom, recently decreed the shutdown is to be delayed. Well, is not that special! Memorial Day is just around the corner, so in a few weeks it should be a fait acompli. Or it would be, the declarations of Congress not withstanding.
Once it is a thing of the past (if it ever is) the USPS (and us) will save several billion dollars a year. Or it should, so they say (and being a true American, I always believe every word they say, whoever they are. I even believed CNN when they said the Boston bombers were caught when everyone else said they were — at least one of them were — on the lam.)
Let me ask you, does Saturday delivery really matter all that much? Most of our Saturday mail does not show up until after 4 PM, anyway, so it may just as well be Sunday delivery — and, like most other days, it consists of junk mail: advertising, worthless coupons and political propaganda, 99 and 44/100% of which winds up in the trash, anyway.
If anyone has anything of value to tell me (or sell me) email is faster and more reliable — and a hellava lot cheaper. Also, I guarantee email gets read; regular mail may or may not, depending on my mood (and where my glasses are — they are always on when I am at the computer).
I am old enough to remember penny post cards and 1st class stamps that cost three cents. The last time I used USPS, the stamps cost 46¢ each and the smallest anywhere box was $5.14. Needless to say, the last time was my last time.
Hallmark, according to what I heard on the news, closed one of its major printing plants last fall, sending thousands of typesetters, artists and poets (?) to the unemployment offices. They never asked me, of course, but I could have warned them years ago: free online greeting cards, far superior to Hallmark’s efforts, are not only more gorgeous, better written, much faster and more reliable — but the price is right.
My ancient mother-in-law, rapidly approaching (but not slowing down) age 95, forgives the USPS their dawdling sins. Those poor carriers! she wails and rants. They have tons of letters and boxes to tote about! They deserve every cent they get! Neither rain, nor snow, nor wind — nor pestilence, not rain, nor wars — nor civil unrest — nor snow, nor democrats. Nor — you know what I mean — nor anything, will, uh, ever deter them from their rounds . . . mark my words!
There was a time back a millennium ago, when I was a teenager, that I collected stamps, much like my idol FDR; the treasure trove were stamps from all over the world. I often spent my entire miniscule allowance of 25¢ per week on albums and foreign entities that were offered on matchbook covers, backs of comic books, radio shows such as Li’l Orphan Annie, and other trustworthy outlets available in order to fulfill my dream of owning postage stamps from every corner of the planet.
Where those albums and wax paper packets are today is anybody’s guess, but does not matter (maybe CNN knows). I have them safely stored in the secure chambers of my heart as part and parcel of my long lost youth.
Will I be sad to see the demise of the USPS? Indubitably. As sad as I am, however, I have watched all other changes in life’s marvels, such as rabbit ears, 8-track audio cassettes, air rifles, condensers atop Frigidaires, running boards, bicycles with balloon tires, cars with inner tube tires and dimmer switches on the floor, vodka martini glasses, etc., disappear with nary a wet eye.
I will miss the USPS — if not all of it, at least the Saturday deliveries, should they ever come to pass. As seniors, we have so little left to look forward to. What will we do if the little white truck does not make an appearance on our street between 4 and 9 PM on Saturdays — not to mention Mons thru Fris?
Good Lord, I just remembered something: the HOA screamed bloody murder until I agreed to spend an inordinate amount of money on a new mailbox at the end of my drive. Now, with the USPS about to bite the dust, maybe, am I stuck with another ornamental yard antique? They cried foul over the UGA Bulldog displayed aside the old one!
