Around the Kitchen Table: No-mail days

Mr. Tidwell was our mail carrier for over 20 years. He drove a red and white El Camino. You could set your clock by his arrival on mail days – 11:10 a.m. He never varied more than five minutes either way. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I discovered that his punctuality stemmed from devotion to his wife.

The Tidwells lived about three miles from our farm and he had practiced his rural route enough to figure the precise timing for the noon meal. As far as I know his wife never had to eat that meal alone. Not only that, but he also finished his rounds in time to be home for supper. I thought that was a sweet gesture. Of course, I never asked the Missus what she thought of the arrangement.

This was in the 1960s and ‘70s, before Amazon and the explosion of online ordering and home delivery. Back then, we ordered things through Sears & Roebuck, Montgomery Ward’s and J.C. Penney’s, but you had to go pick up your order at the “catalog store.” These were usually small places with a counter, a few big-ticket items like a stove or freezer and a couple of stern-looking bespectacled women that looked like they’d rather be anywhere but there (but I digress).

For many rural folks like us, getting the mail was sometimes the highlight of the day – finding a letter from a faraway relative, an invitation to a friend’s birthday party or discovering a Reader’s Digest or National Geographic in the bundle. I loved getting my Weekly Reader newspaper during the summer months and throughout the year the boxes that held the much-anticipated “Book of the Month” selections. Being a kid, I didn’t think about the bills that were probably part of that bundle, but even now, I don’t mind the bills if a handwritten note, package or magazine accompanies them.

When my kids were small, they loved to go to the mailbox for me. Our driveway is pretty long and you can’t see our box from the house, so the first time they were allowed to retrieve the mail by themselves, it was a milestone. Later, they would race to see who could get there first and argue on the way back about who won. Most of their growing up, we had the same mailman; we got our first “mail lady” when they were teenagers.

My girls thought she had a fun job until one day they were at the end of the driveway when she came by. One look at the interior of her Jeep piled to the roof with letters, packages and circulars changed their minds.

However, no-mail days can be slightly depressing. Getting only junk mail or political pleas are even worse, I’ll admit. Even though we don’t receive as many letters, cards and magazines as we used to, I still look forward to getting my mail. It’s like a regular surprise package – you never know what you’re going to get until you open it. No-mail days throw me off, especially those I can’t remember easily, like President’s Day, Labor Day and Columbus Day. Sometimes, I get all the way to the mailbox before I remember and I have to turn around and walk back empty-handed. At least it’s a good stretch of the legs, even if I am a little disappointed.

Nowadays, I can look forward to getting packages of things for my grandkids and other stuff I ordered. I do feel for my mail carriers (we have a rotating shift of drivers from week to week) because they are delivering much more than Mr. Tidwell ever thought about doing. But that was a different time.

Even though things change, and they always do, I hope my grandkids will have the same fond memories of getting their own mail. Buying regular subscriptions to children’s magazines and sending an occasional note is my way of encouraging them to enjoy mail days.

I hope you have some good memories of your rural route delivery. If you do, don’t forget to share those with your kids and grandkids. While you’re at it, why not send a card or letter to someone? You might just make their day.

by Tamra M. Bolton