Escargot poste Doesn't sound as clever as snail mail but it's the same thing.

 

1938, Aunt Edie reading a book. I found this and other great photos my mom left.

        When I was a little girl, our mailman's name was Sam. Damn.  Now I am having to think about where our mail went.  I know we didn't have a mailbox. We were city dwellers.  We must have had a slit on the door where the mail was pushed through. There were a pair our outside doors that led into the vestibule, which was really a tiny space.  The downstairs door was on the right, the apartment for upstairs was on the left. I know, this is yet  *Another Digression, but it's been so very long and I would hate to not remember.

   Grandma often sat on the front porch and Sam would walk up the steps and give us our mail.  My older sister had a pen pal in England and when I was old enough,  I must have written letters too and received replies, because I was always so excited to get the mail.

   As I mentioned, in a previous blog, I moved out at age 23, so the mail then,  was of course, mostly bills. Still, I was always excited to get mail because there was always the element of surprise.

   I was, and I doubt this will surprise you, a letter writer. And so, there was always the hope that mixed in with the bills, would be a friend's response,  or maybe an invitation to a party or a package from a company I had complained to. this leads to Another Digression which I think is usually a good thing. Stories are what this blog is really about, and I have plenty to tell. And so.........

   I  wrote a letter to the tootsie roll pop company complaining that the chocolate tootsie inside had shrunk over the years and it was distressing to me. I am an admitted chocoholic, and I don't believe there is a 12 step program for it. And that is a good thing because I wouldn't go because I don't want to quit.  No willingness there for me.

  I received a response and a package of tootsie pops. I just looked them up and there is  a Tootsie Industries. I thought they were a subsidiary of a larger candy maker. Wow. They survived.  They were very proud to be the oldest candy maker online. Huh? Online? 

      Anyway.  Their response was really funny . They pointed out that when I was a child I was little and that maybe the center hadn't gotten smaller; I had gotten bigger and it was my growth that changed my recollection.  Still, they replied and sent me actual product. A half dozen Tootsie Pops. I still believe the centers shrank.

  This may seem like a digression, but it isn't. It's a verbal  picture of the subtle changes that brought us to the present day. 

    I'm not sure where I got the penchant for complaining to corporations, possibly my Aunt Mildred. Since it's her advice I remember and still use. Always complain to the CEO. Start with the top and you'll get results. And she was right until the past 6 or 7 years. And oh, the other complaining, also known as kvetching is cultural.

   Some years later I complained to another manufacturer about their product. Whatever it was doesn't matter because what I got was coupons. That really ticked me off because I didn't want to use their product any more and they sent me freaking coupons.

    Thanks. I needed the ice in the snow storm.

     There were of course different types of complaints and different circumstances for writing them.  For this discourse, it doesn't matter. Since this is one ginormous digression.

   Sometimes I just wanted an acknowledgement for what I was complaining about. Sometimes an apology. Over the years, I wrote less because I was busy with life and mellowed so, something had to really piss me off to get me to write.  Which brings me to the new way of corresponding. It could be snail mail or email.

   The next level I call being ignored.  The companies must have drafted a new policy to not reply and hope the person would go away. I'm sure that worked often. It takes a lot of energy to follow through on something. Perhaps for some, just getting it out was enough.

    For me, it fueled my righteous indignation and the second letter was possibly a bit hostile. Now, I was not only angry about whatever your company was up to, but to not be acknowledged? That  generally got a response and usually some concession about my complaint. No one likes to be called out for being impolite.

     I'd gone from Tootsie Rolls to being disgruntled about having to pay almost a thousand dollars for anesthesia, because they didn't accept my insurance. Or any insurance as it seems to be these days. Don't get me started about the practice of anesthesiologists. Yes, they may be the most important person in the operating room, but that shouldn't give them license to all become independent contractors and not work for hospitals where they have to work.  Enough. I'm talking a deep breath.

     As usual,  that's not  even the topic that I'm writing about. I'm writing about a cultural loss. This is the Christmas season, and so far I have gotten two Christmas cards from friends,  and five from charities I have donated to. Along with requests for more money. 

     Real  Snail mail has become nearly extinct and it saddens me. 

     I have always been the person who sends you a birthday card, a thank you card, a Christmas card and God forbid, a sympathy card. Sometimes a Get Well or Just thinking of you. I'm not a phone person so it helps me stay in touch. Or it used to.

     This month, I missed three events and I'm not sure what's going on with me. Well, really it's not me.   (denial and rationalization)

     I live in a house that has a curbside mailbox. It's really cool and unlike Great Neck, where I lived right before moving here. I don't have to search for a post  office box to send my mail. I just put it in my mail box and put up a flag. It's so easy. I've gotten spoiled although it's almost unnecessary. How many things do we really send these days? Not many.  But ..............

    Our mailbox is usually full. Sometimes  after bringing the load in, I let it sit on the kitchen counter for two days or OMG, more, before going through it. What's the point? I do still get a couple of paper bills, however I don't change over the paperless out of spite because I want them to spend unnecessary money mailing them to me. I pay them on line and don't need them since I keep track of what I owe.

    Sometimes I need to read the new tax notice or your rates are changing notifications, but generally, I get political mail, charities asking for donations, post cards from realtors, local news papers that are really advertisements for local businesses, chances to win lotteries, invitations to retirement planning dinners and Medicare plan advice. I may have left something out. Oh my God. How could I forget my shopping catalogs? 

    Generally when I read the mail, I do it standing next to the paper recycling box we have in the kitchen and only open a charity letter if I think it is a confirmation of a donation I will need for my taxes. Usually it's not. And so, nine tenths of what we received is immediately put in the trash. This is why we need to recycle?

     When I lived in Great Neck, I usually got home from work,  around the time Billy our mail man was filling the locked letter boxes. It was great. We would talk about what was going on in the building and shoot the breeze. He was a really nice guy. Once, I asked him which season was the worst, assuming it would be Christmas. I was wrong. It was the  November elections. What does that tell us about how our money is being spent? I will not Digress.

      So, My question is; is it time to give up the ghost of Christmas past? Why do I pay for an account with an online greeting card company so I can send  cool animated cards to those whose email addresses I have? I can send very nice cards. For gifts, I can send them a credit card from a store they like, although I did find out that Louis Vuitton will not do that online. You must come into the store.  Walmart's on the other hand probably doesn't care if you use a stolen credit card. I just slapped myself in the face for being bad.

     So, why do we still even have a post office? My stomach cringed when I wrote that. The last thing I want to do is put people out of work. I really like our mailwoman and I know the people at our local post office too. Of course, they still deliver packages from Amazon and the other online stores I buy from. That's not the issue.

     I am aging and  watching the world change in ways I thought impossible twenty or thirty years ago. I have to change along with it or I won't survive.  That doesn't mean I like all of the new ways. It seems that whatever your age, you are nostalgic for the years that have gone by. Every generation will be nostalgic about something. This is one of mine.

    My email box is as bad as my regular mail box. At least there I can click on spam if I don't want to receive the advertisements, or unsubscribe to what I don't want to get. And it doesn't waste paper or kill trees. It probably uses energy that somehow goes back to oil which in my mind is worse.

   I do like to get notices of sales from some stores, so I don't want to spam them so some days I have 40 messages.  At least when I throw them in the trash, I don't have to pick up a carton and move it to the garage.

   Still. The excitement is gone. Both from snail and email. When I first met my husband, 17 years ago, the movie you've got mail was playing. He took me to see It and it was charming. You only got mail that you expected. There wasn't quite so much junk back then. Now, my single friends get pictures of a guys junk as a way of introduction. No thank you.

    Now, it's Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanza  season and I miss getting  the cards. I miss reading the newsletter inserted in some, even if I thought it was kind of weird to put in a card. I don't exactly miss writing and mailing them, which I did. And I almost always wrote something personal in the card because if you're my friend, I don't want you to just be a person on a list that I don't distinguish  as I put your name in the card. If memory serves me, I used to send out over 60 cards.

  I suppose it may be being thought of, which I miss. The email and texts have such and impersonal feel. No matter how many emoticons you use. 

   My brand of person is becoming extinct. There is not DNA for letter writing. It's only a tradition from long ago. It is a choice that I shall have to make.

   The e -world may be faster and easier and I know there's no going back.  But I feel sorry for the generation who won't find an old photograph of someone they haven't seen, or a hidden box of love letters tied in a ribbon or a note from a long deceased, beloved grandma.

   Theory. With progress comes loss.

 

My grandma's signing my 8th grade graduation book.