My
mailman's name is Kelly. He is a
veteran. His knee was shot in
Desert Storm, and he had to retire from the
army. He never saw the person who
shot him. He's not angry. I know I'd be really
mad, but then again that's why I'd never be in the military - I just hate getting shot at.
I think he really
likes being a mailman, even though it is not as
exciting as being a soldier. He brings to his job the
interest,
enthusiasm and
ability that I'm sure he used in his career as a warrior. He seems to know the names of the several hundred people on his route, and can put
faces to
names after meeting people only once. I live in an apartment complex of over three hundred residents, and Kelly
greets everyone he meets by name. It's
amazing.
One of the things I like best about Kelly is that he keeps track of our
mail, no matter what. There are times when I put in my form saying that I will be gone for one week and then
disappear for three weeks. When I come home I find that if there was too much mail in my mailbox Kelly has taken it to the
Post Office for safe keeping. He delivers it when he knows I'm back. Since I
virtual office when I'm not travelling, I'm totally
dependent on being able to get my mail.
He's
nice to
everyone, even though a lot of people are not nice to him. The
manager of these apartments is a total bitch, and frequently criticizes Kelly for small errors - such as delivering mail to the box of a person who has moved out (and, of course, left no
forwarding address nor notified the post office that they are gone). She does this to all of the staff. And sometime the residents can be mean and/or
stupid. One resident demanded that Kelly deliver a package after 6:00 PM personally to his apartment. The
arrogance! We get our
packages at the
office here; they are not hand delivered to 300 apartments every day.
So here is my ode to my mailman:
Neither
pain nor rain
nor horrible bitchy
apartment complex managers
nor harsh
mean people
shall stay my
mailman from his appointed rounds.
My mailman sees the
sunlight in every person he meets
wheither young or old,
kind or
harsh.
He walks his days with
pride and
happiness
and takes care of us, our
mail too.
(Yes, I know it doesn't rhyme. I don't do rhyming poems.)