Be nice to your mail carrier this holiday season

christmas seals

Christmas seals appeared on all my parent’s cards they sent out during the holiday season.

I stopped to chat with the postman as he was locking up the Silver Sage Village mail boxes. I get a few things by 1st class mail, but it’s mostly bills and junk.

Today was no different as the mail ended up in the circular file headed to the recycling bin. The other day I got a letter from the IRS saying I owe a few bucks. Maybe government agencies are obliged to use hard copy and resort to first class mail.

“Things have been really crazy. We made a deal with Amazon and now have 40 percent of their business,” he lamented. “That, plus everyone has started mailing a lot earlier this year.”

Like November 1.

The post office, unlike FedEx and UPS delivers on Christmas and Sundays. He said some days he starts at 7am and doesn’t get finished until 10pm and mail is getting delivered at odd times.

What about “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

“Oh, that’s still true, but this month the mail just gets delivered later! We’ll get it figured out eventually.”

I’ve been selling a bunch of stuff on eBay which also must have a deal with the postal service. On all packages, I get a postage discount, plus I don’t have to go to stand in line at the post office and can have the occasional chat with the postman.

Every year, I plan to send out hard copy Christmas cards, and every year I don’t get around to it. Fifty cents for a stamp and fifty cents for the card – a buck to send a greeting and well wishes is a pretty good deal.

I remember when I was young, my parents sent out Christmas cards every year. That tradition included going to the post office and picking out just the perfect stamps for that year’s mailing.

It was also a time to make donations to fight tuberculosis and putting those on the envelope was also signs of the season.

I don’t even remember mailing packages. Once in a while something would be sent to my aunt in Washington DC, but she generally came back to Cheyenne for Christmas. She always brought with her “big city” gifts like Godiva ch0colate, sweaters from Lord and Taylor.

These days, all that fancy stuff is now very common and available in malls.

We’ve become mass society.

The Baby Boomer diaspora also contributes to the package shipping explosion. When my grandparents died, my uncles and aunts didn’t come around as much any more. That meant my cousins didn’t come to town much either.

Any presents had to be mailed. That was all before FedEx and UPS. When all the cousins were in high school, the unwritten rule was, no more gifts.

I really don’t send stuff out, but now that I’m getting to the point in life that I’m downsizing, I’m selling stuff on eBay. Why on earth I held on to that Charlies Angels lunch box, I’ll never know (although I still have a crush on Kate Jackson) but someone will enjoy having it gathering dust on their shelves.

The few holiday greetings I’ve sent out are gift cards to amazon.com or event tickets. As long as there are kids, there will be a demand for unnecessary stuff. The cycle seems to keep going and going.

Even if I don’t get around to sending out cards this year, I’ll at least be nice to my mail carrier this holiday season.

By the way, I learned that this quote which has become the US Postal Service motto was written by Greek historian Herodotus, 503 B.C. The words are inscribed on the General Post Office facility on 33rd Street and 8th Avenue in New York City.

I forget … and I blame it on ‘Future Shock’

I still know the difference between coming and going but have to work harder on names.

I still know the difference between coming and going but have to work harder on names.

I’ve been noticing that I have to think harder.

Not because I can’t solve problems, but because I remember the wrong stuff.

I’ve always been a trivia buff and sometimes wish I could dump some of that gunk out of my head.

I can remember that card #1 of the 1952 Topps baseball card set is Andy Pafko, but I have to keep repeating to myself that I need to buy a new flapper for the toilet tank.

My long term memory is still sharp, but I wish I could purge my brain of some of it.

My long term memory is still sharp, but I wish I could purge my brain of some of it.

Add to that, no less than 20 flapper choices ranging in price from $6 to $20! I spent way too much time at the hardware store today.

I settled on the TOTO for $15 – made in the USA, USA, USA.

Alvin Toffler wrote “Future Shock” in 1970. The book is about personal perceptions of “too much change in too short a period of time”.

Alvin Toffler’s “Future Shock” came out when I was in high school. It was quite prophetic.

Ain’t that the truth.

My too-many-flappers conundrum is future shock come to pass and I notice I spend too much brain power on cluttered decisions like this.

“There have been a lot of advancements over the years,” the green – vested McGuckin plumbing department guy said of his collection of rubber plugs to keep toilet tanks full of water until the next flush.

toto flapper

I had too many flapper choices, but the one I bought, did the trick.

Add unexpected flapperology lessons to my lack of motivation and general lethargy arising from my illness recovery over the past few months and it’s a double whammy.

As a hedge against my future shock, folks encouraged me to arrange the clutter by writing lists for this and that.

I began to jot things down in a calendar book like meetings and dentist appointments appointments, but write a list?

Fuhgettaboutit!

Will someone find me a pen?

My first batch of green chili turned out, thanks to the readily available fresh veggies.

My first batch of green chili turned out, thanks to the readily available fresh veggies.

I started cooking more food from scratch and use recipes from allrecipes.com mostly because the mobile phone app works pretty well in the food store, with or without WiFi.

The parts list is at my fingertips.

Tonight, I tried my hand at a pot of green chili. In the olden days – 10 years ago, even – it was not possible to cook dishes like this because of the limited number of oddball ingredients that were available in the average grocery store. For instance, I needed:
– jalapeño peppers
– anaheim peppers
– tomatillos

While reading recipes, I could tell the older ones because they called for x-number of cans – Ortega green chiles.

The food stores stock lots of product that didn't used to be offered.

The food stores stock lots of product that didn’t used to be offered.

Safeway now offers peppers galore – pablano, habanero, banana, orange ones, yellow ones, red ones, those long slender ones you get on Chicago dogs.

The chili was good, but turned out a little spicier than I thought and I’ll tweak the recipe for the faint of heart. I used to improvise a lot, but have since learned that there’s a lot of chemistry involved in cooking, and not everything has to have tomato sauce in it.

I’ve not only started keeping a virtual recipe box, I keep my contact list up to date to help me remember people. I’m still pretty good with names, but I have to repeat them to myself more than in the past.

When I see people after a year, I can remember when we met, where we met, what they do for work. Sometimes, sometimes not, the name will come to me.

It’s very frustrating.

I learned from my nonprofit development director days that there are very expensive computer programs written to keep track of donors and prospects. I use my phone contact list to remind me about people.

I started keeping a hard copy record after I heard a couple nightmares about losing contact info in the “cloud.”

When I go places now, I have to study who may be there. I could just ask people their name, but that’s no fun.

My neighbor, Henry, says that proper name memory is the first to go – something to do with the hippocampus. That’s a bit reassuring.

Jerry Seinfeld had trouble remembering his girl friend's name that rhymes with a female body part.

Jerry Seinfeld had trouble remembering his girl friend’s name that rhymes with a female body part.

This reminds me of the Seinfeld episode when Jerry can’t remember his girlfriend’s name that rhymes with a part of the female anatomy.

There’s an Alzheimer’s disease ad playing on TV about a husband that finds his wife’s car keys in the fridge.

So far, I haven’t done anything like that, but then again, I’ve been misplacing things for years like my wallet, phone, coats. I always have gotten everything back, though.

When that luck runs out, I should start worrying.

In the meantime, I’ll just go with my future shock flow and keep absorbing baseball trivia, keep my choices simple and remember names by way of mnemonic devices.

“Oh … DELORES!”

Quality time?

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“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!” – Hunter S. Thompson

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!” – Hunter S. Thompson

A friend of mine, well into her 80s, went into the hospital the other day with some blood clots. She decided against further treatment and meeting the local hospice at her home.

She had a good run.

All of a sudden, folks are wanting to share “quality time” with her and her husband.

Another guy I know is soon to be sending his wife in her 70s with advanced dementia into a memory care facility and wants to spend “quality time” with her.

What is “quality time”, anyway?

I was surprised to see that there are definitions for “quality time” mostly having to do with giving undivided and interactive attention to a loved one or kids.

There’s another definition for people at the ends of their lives. The hospice or memory care staff are very intentional about planning “quality time” for the patient such as pain management provided by medical staff and lifestyle stability by hospice staff for family and friends.

I think these two types of quality time get interchanged when it comes to visiting terminally ill people. The doctor who gave pain killers to Michael Jackson was he facilitating quality time?

I think, yes.

Not that it matters, but I don’t prefer the term.

I stopped by and visited. My friend was sedated, but awake and recognized me. Her husband, also rehabbing from a fall was his usual self, but stuck in his chair. He’s the guy I visited at the rehab center and was able to get himself sprung from there.

It was also a time to connect with others I haven’t seen in awhile. A couple of our mutual friends were there, too.

Quality time is all relative. It’s too bad a person has to be on their death bed to get visitors.

I wonder if they thought “Where were you when we were in better shape?”

For starters, I’ll be in touch with friends and family more regularly and I hope others will return the hospitality. I was in Cheyenne the other day and stopped over to see my aunt and 89 year old uncle who just got out of the hospital. He’s not in great physical shape but in good spirits.

He was a World War II vet and a member if the 442nd Regimental Combat Battalion.

wrote the other day about envisioning my future self making it to be 70 or 80. I think I’m more in tune with Hunter Thompson’s approach of skidding through life until all my tires are bald.

I’ll have to be pretty damn chipper if I want to see quality time in 2035!

Meanwhile, I found out today my 90-something year old aunt died in her sleep.

Getting old isn’t for wimps … I’ll have some of my ashes shot out of a cannon, like Hunter Thompson.