I remember the simpler times. We would watch from the house as the mailman pulled up to our country mailbox located at the end of our driveway. Then a battle would begin between we siblings about whose turn it was to get the mail. Actually the end result usually turned into a race to see who could arrive at the rusty old metal box first.

The winner was awarded the honor of ripping open the metal door revealing the days anticipated communication from the outside world. There was always a variety of handwritten letters containing colorful stamps in the upper righthand corner. Also the letters with the return addresses bearing local businesses in town were quickly identified as bills and received very little interest.

The day old Minneapolis Tribune was the prize for we siblings.  As soon as we returned to the house the paper was opened to the ‘funnies’ and laid on the floor while we brothers tried to read the ‘funnies’  simultaneously. This usually ended up in elbow fights as we each struggled to gain the most comfortable reading position.

While we kids were in an ongoing struggle to read the comic strips our Mother sat in the old, stuffed davenport and read letters from relatives and friends. A smile formed as she caught up on the lives of friends and family.

How things have changed!

Although even today I still anticipate walking up the driveway to retrieve the mail. Kathie often accompanies me but not with my same enthusiasm. She’s more in it for the exercise. You see she didn’t grow up with the excited anticipation for mail delivery that I did. Maybe it was because I lived on a farm isolated from the rest of society.

Kathie’s mailman wasn’t a mysterious man in a usually beat up old car far down the driveway. Her mailman came right to her door, dropped the mail in the mailbox attached to the house and might have even visited for a spell.

I have established dominance now as the mail is gathered. I’m the one who opens the door, reaches into the box and withdraws the potentially exciting correspondence.

The excitement is ninety-nine percent of the time squelched immediately.

None of the letters contain real, authentic stamps. They are fake junk mail stamps. Not one envelope contains real handwriting! Not one friendly note from a long lost friend. How exciting it is after funerals or graduations when letters with real handwriting and official stamps arrive. But then they disappoint as their comments are usually very brief and impersonal.

Some junk mail requires a lot of homework. I feel like I’m back in middle school again. Lately I’ve received more surveys to fill out and then at the bottom of the survey are blanks where one can provide credit card information and send in donations so they can afford to develop more surveys. 🙁

I’m ashamed to admit but when I see “survey” slide out of a junk mail envelope it hits the circular file immediately.

Junk mail causes me a lot of guilty feelings. Early junk mail would contain several pennies in an attempt to guilt one into sending in a large donation to a very worthy cause. Included pictures of starving, sickly children in foreign lands increased the feelings of guilt. But I had my donations already earmarked for other worthy causes.

Soon the pennies became nickels and the nickels became dimes. The feelings of guilt rose to fever pitch. And then came quarters! I still held out and did not contribute though I was in misery. The final act that caused me to crumble was when the junk mail requests begin to contain fifty cent pieces and even one dollar bills!

I have to admit I have taken out my credit card and made several donations. I’m done with that now however. I’m holding out for a junk mail containing a five spot! That could cause me to crumble again.

Junk mail developers are very clever. As I mentioned earlier I long for an envelope addressed in cursive.  How excited I was on one mail collecting excursion when I pulled from the mailbox a letter addressed in cursive. “A real down home letter!” I screamed and I excitedly ripped it open to discover a camouflaged piece of junk mail! How low will they go? 🙁

As a school teacher I always went by the K.I.S.S. abbreviation which stands for Keep It Simple Stupid! Learning is always more fun when it is taught in the simplest manner.

Junk mail could learn from the K.I.S.S. process. When I open a piece of junk mail that contains four pages of double-spaced information I am not going to read it. It goes against my teaching and learning philosophy. And when I look ahead and see at the bottom of the last page there are blanks to fill in my credit card info and large amounts of money suggested as possible donations I really lose interest!

The elections are just around the corner so you know what effect that will have on junk mail increases. Think of all those mailmen and mailwomen that have to tote those bags of propaganda for days and days as they complete their routes.

However we have failed to mention the most disastrous consequences of junk mail. “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree!” You see where I’m headed with this? Where does junk mail originate from? Yep, a tree more lovely than any poem ever written.

Let’s take that to heart. Let’s make junk mail illegal and demand that it become junk emails. Emails you simply have to delete where junk mail is burned or decomposed and adds carbon dioxide to our wonderful world.

Have you heard about Global Warming?

Now that’s another topic for another time.

So I’m feeling much better after getting that junk mail burden off my chest. I’ll probably still anticipate my walks to get the mail and continue to be disappointed with the mailbox’s contents.

And then as I walk back down our driveway I’ll look up at the trees in our windbreak smile, apologize and assure them that junk mail will not be in their future. 🙂

Until next time.