Again and again those postal workers amaze me as with each large blizzard the faithful blue-bundled mailman walks up to my porch and slips whatever joy-bringing goodies he has in his bag into my letter box.
Last Thursday here in Columbia, MO we had 10 in. of snow fall in a few hours, closing schools, universities, and even many businesses. It was amazing the backlog of traffic that reportedly sat for hours on some snow and car-stuffed streets as, for example, Stadium Blvd. was full of abandoned cars facing every whichaway.
As the snow thickened and I heard that the University of Missouri released everyone around 12:30pm, I began ringing around friends to see how they fared getting home. For sure, some would get stuck in a snow drift. Tuck called me back after reaching his house to let me know he was safe and warm, thanking me for being one of the two folks, along with his mom, to call to check on him. Ha!
Another friend Michael sat for almost three hours in the Stadium Blvd. mess. When he picked up my call he had been sitting in 2 hours of inching traffic as the snow inches piled up and up. It was a nice 10 minute conversation as he relaxed from the situation’s tension and he recounted his last few hours and what he saw out the windshield ahead of him. He kept posturing options for escape; should he abandon his car like so many others and strike out on foot? Well, his slip-on Birkenstocks said otherwise.
In all the melee, my housemate and I sat pondering again if the Postman could conjure the brazenness to trounce from house to apartment to bungalow to throw in whatever bills, circulars, and junk mail he had in his bag. It turns out, out mailman is sort of like Santa Claus. Christmas is past, but he sort of seemed like a Father Christmas-archetype reminiscent of the character in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis. He he came onto our porch. We heard the commotion and clatter and got up to see what was the matter. I sprung open the door and there to my surprise and joy was Santa Cla…our mailman!
“We wondered if you would come!” I said.
“Of course,” he replied.
He handed me two letters, a credit card bill and something else, then motioned with his hand and disappeared into the drifting snow.
It was almost magical.
“Rain, sleet, hail, or snow; in any weather I will go.” Maybe when the Saturday mail service ends soon, all the snow will fall on the weekend…