In the Mail
I’ve also had a special relationship with the mail. That sounds a bit strange I know. But, really, when I was a kid and a teenager I used to order a ton of stuff through mail-order, mostly music related. Every day when I’d come home from school the first thing I’d do was check if anything came for me. I used to have some long distance pen pals way back—one from Seattle and one from Denmark. Then, when I got older and was living on my own, people were no longer corresponding through the mail, and all I would get from my daily trips to the mailbox was bills, junk mail and catalogs. Occasionally I would get a package—a book, a CD maybe, some running gear, something bought on eBay. Sometimes someone would send a postcard. These were always pleasant surprises.
But here in Cebu, I rarely get any mail from anyone or anywhere. I don’t get any bills (except for a few online) which I’m totally fine with. (Actually, my last few years in the States I received and paid almost all bills online in an effort to reduce clutter and paper consumption and check writing, etc.) But I don’t really get any junk mail either. We don’t have an address at home so I think all our mail goes to one of the offices. But rarely does any come to me. Who knows I’m here? I’m not really complaining about the lack of junk mail, but I do miss that ritual of getting the mail and having something every day, and the smallest possibility that there may be something worthwhile in the day’s mail.
And I have doubts about the reliability of Phil Post, the Philippine postal service. I was surprised and amazed that the postmark on my dad’s card was 29 August, meaning it only took two weeks to get here from Arizona. I just sent my absentee ballot application the other day, so hopefully that will get to Kew Gardens, NY just as quickly.
