My First Day of Retirement

Thanks to all my friends, postal and customers,
who made my last day memorable!

It’s Monday, May 2^nd of the year 2016.  I am now officially retired from the United States Postal Service.  Yesterday, being a Sunday, didn’t really count – Sunday was the one constant day we had off from the Post Office.  But today – Monday – I should be getting ready to go to work…  or at least sleeping in until the very last minute, dreaming about calling in “sick”.

But no.  Here I am, pretty much wide-awake at 4:30 in the morning with thoughts running around in my head like a hamster on a wheel – running fast but going absolutely nowhere.

Did I say it’s 4:30 in the morning?  Well of course I did.  I thought I’d log onto the Internet and get some change of address forms printed up for our local Post Office, and then check some mileages on the maps, look for potential places to stay each night, and then do some more appliance shopping.  (We’ve got most of the big stuff picked out… but I still need to get an over-the-stove microwave and hood and some ceiling fans picked out.)

Did I say I logged onto the Internet?  No, I did not.  I said I thoughtI’d log onto the Internet.  Sometimes the things you’d like to do and the things you’re able to do are two different things entirely.  And this morning, at least here in Garden Valley, Idaho… the Internet is missing in action.  What a pity I wasn’t able to just roll back over and catch another hour or two of sleep.

Not being able to access the Internet has allowed me to sit down and write this long overdue entry to my blog.  Being that it’s really too early to tell whether my first day of retirement will be a high or a low, let me tell you about my last day of work, which was definitely a “high”. 

Trying to get done in a timely manner was impossible; people were stopping me along the well to say goodbye, wish me success in retirement, or give me a card.  In a few of those cards were the “signatures” of their dogs, also wishing me well.  A couple of cards even contained pictures of the dogs… lest I should forget!  At one stop I found a package that contained a framed portrait of the little horse that I had been sharing part of my daily apple with for the last fifteen years.

For many years there has been a “tradition” in our section that some of the letter carriers (whose routes were close enough to each other) would get together for a Saturday lunch.  One of my postal friends who started this lunch habit with me retired from the Post Office almost six years ago; he was in attendance at the lunch, as was my wife, Valerie.  She had always heard about our lunches but, because her routes were never close by, was never able to attend.

Done with lunch and back to work, I continued in pretty much the same vein seeing people and saying good-byes.  Then, toward the end of the route one of my customers asked if I could come inside just for a moment.  As I rounded the corner into their kitchen and dining area I found several neighbors sitting or standing by the counter—all of whom started singing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”.  This was followed up with a little lemonade, some questions and answers about our move to Florida, and then a round of thank-you and goodbyes.  About fifteen minutes after this miniature surprise party and I was facing my final mailbox.  And then there were none…

The only thing left now was to drive back to the Post Office, check in and then “check out”.  I rounded up my personal belongings into a tub and waddled out the door for the last time.  When I got to my little VW bug, I unlocked the passenger door and placed all the stuff inside on the passenger seat, locked the door and closed it.  There in the front seat was all that was left of my postal career, and it was at that very moment that reality truly hit me:  I had just locked my key inside the damned car!

And so I owe many thanks to the people I served over the years on my route, and to the fine crew that I worked with… and especially to a carrier named Violet, who happened to have a membership with AAA – and because of that was able to reunite me with my car key and get me on the road to retirement!

Whistler

(Sadly, there was a photograph associated with this blog entry.  When transferring it from one site that was shutting down to this site, the photo was lost.  I am unable to locate it among my possessions.)

⧫⧫⧫

One of the first dogs I ever encountered on the mail route I’ve been delivering for over the last 15 years was named Whistler.  As I pulled up to place the mail in the curbside mailbox, this yellow lab came charging toward the mailbox at full speed.  Wonderful.  Brand new on the route, and I’ve already found a territorial dog.

He arrived at the mailbox in mere seconds, and then hit the brakes – coming to an almost instantaneous stop next to the mailbox.  It was then that I noticed two important details; Whistler was wearing a shock collar (for the Invisible Fence) so he had an ingrained concept of boundaries, and secondly (and most important to Whistler) was that he had a tennis ball in his mouth.

Whistler was not in “attack mode”.  He was in, “I’ve found a sucker to throw my ball” mode.  And he was right… in no time at all he had me trained to throw the ball for him whenever I showed up. 

This became a game for both of us; I’d show up at the mailbox and so would Whistler.  I’d throw the ball toward the back of the house (their yard sloped downhill from the street) and Whistler would run at full-tilt to retrieve the ball and make it back to the box before I was done getting the mail sorted and off to the next stop.  Whistler always got two throws of the ball because of his speed.  On heavy mail days he usually got three tosses of the ball.

This went on for a few years, and then one day one of Whistler’s humans was out in the yard, waiting by the mailbox.  When I got there, they told me that Whistler had cancer and wasn’t going to be around much longer.  They also asked if I’d do them a favor and pose for a photo with him.  They were compiling a photo album for their kids, tentatively called “A Day in the Life of Whistler”, where they were going to document his daily goings-on.  My routine stop there was apparently on Whistler’s “to-do” list, so it was only natural that it should be part of the documentary.

The photo that appears above is a copy that was given to me from that day’s “photo-shoot”.  It’s also a pleasant reminder of the dog who helped to make a game out of delivering the mail to that one address on my route.  Even though Whistler has been gone for years, I still pull up to that one mailbox expecting to see him standing there with his ball, waiting for the game to begin.

Putting The Shoe on the Other Foot

It’s the age-old battle – drivers vs. bicyclists.  Drivers have to use a little more caution when going around cyclists, sometimes even having to slow down or wait until it’s safe to pass.  God knows it’s hard to get that momentum back once you’ve lost it… you have to exhibit some kind of super-human strength by, well… placing your right foot on the accelerator and pushing down.  Bicyclists can get infuriated with the drivers not moving over a little bit when they are going by, or sometimes cyclists can be plain rude by hogging the lane instead of riding over on the right-hand edge.

Yeah, yeah… I’ve heard it before.  “The cars won’t know you’re there unless you claim the lane.”  Bullshit.  The cars will know you’re there, but if you’re “claiming the lane” they’ll resent you and every other biker out there.  The next time they see the “Share the Road” slogan printed somewhere they’ll try to spit on it.  Hopefully you’re not wearing a custom made cycling jersey with that phrase emblazoned upon it at the time.  

I have no problem sharingthe lane.  I can, and do, ride as far to the right-hand side as I safely can.  When there’s sand or debris in the way I move to the left on an as-needed basis.  It’s not that tough, but motorists still resent bicyclists for being on “their” roads.  (For those of you who really like to read, might I suggest “Roads Were Not Built for Cars”, by Carlton Reid?)  

One thing drivers could benefit from is knowing how vulnerable bicyclists feel when sharing the road.  It might help give them a little more perspective about passing cyclists, giving them a little more space and – God help us all – waiting to go around cyclists when it’s not safe to pass them.  But where could a driver gain such experience without actually having to ride a bike on a city street or country road?

Multi-use trails and paths are the answer!  Park your car, put on your walking shoes and go for a little stroll.  Fresh air will do you some good, and we could all use a little exercise from time-to-time.  One of those trails exists in Boise (where we happen to do a good deal of our riding); it’s known as “The Greenbelt”, and it’s a paved path with a dashed line right down the middle (kind of like a road) to keep people on the proper side and moving in a predictable fashion.

Now you need to reset your brain and engage in a little role-playing.  You who are now walking – pretend that you are a bicyclist.  You will encounter a lot of bicyclists along your walk – pretend that they are cars.  Got it?  Simple enough.  You’ll notice that as you start your walk, you’ll probably walk right down the middle of your “lane”.  It’s comfortable, and walking right along the edge seems a bit silly.  Then “whoosh”!  A bicyclist goes zooming by, startling you and making you a little angry.

Couldn’t that thoughtless ass have gotten over in the other lane, or maybe said something like “on your left” before zooming by?  Remember… you’re now the bike and the bike is now the car.  See how this game is shaping up?

If you’ve got a friend walking with you you’re going to stroll side-by-side.  This will just about take up the whole lane.  If someone wants to go around you, they’re going to have to pass by riding into the other lane, unless of course there’s oncoming traffic.  Then they’re going to have to wait until it’s clear, yell “on your left” and hope that the walkers will assume a single file procession until they can cycle past.  Or there’s the other choice… just blow on through without slowing down and hope there’s enough room for you to make it.  (Remember who’s the bike and who’s the car once again?) 

As a pedestrian, you’re really wishing that all the people on bikes would show a little more courtesy and consideration when going around you.  “They can’t be in that big of a hurry that they can’t show a little decency!” you say to yourself.  “If one of those idiots runs into me, I could really wind up in the hurt-locker.”

Ah, now you’re starting to sound just like a bicyclist on the public roads.  Welcome to the club!  Roads, for the most part, are like a multi-use path:  they’re for everybody to use, and the “big kids” need to look out for the “little ones”.  That means bikers need to watch out for the pedestrians on the paths, and on the roads drivers need to give the bikers a little breathing room.

Okay… what started this rant in the first place?  Well… a couple of days ago we took our tandem out for a ride, and part of that ride was along “The Greenbelt”.  It was a sunny Saturday – one of the first of its kind in quite a while, so everybody was out on “The Greenbelt”.  Pedestrians of every age and bicyclists of every ability.  I’m talking about the ones who go screaming by on the most high-tech bikes available to the public right down to the little kiddies who have just learned to ride since Santa brought them their new bike last Christmas.

We were diligent in not forcing ourselves through any tight situations, or letting people know when we were passing close (because the other lane had oncoming people in it).  We would slow to a snail’s pace until after we had cleared the masses and then ramp up to our normal pace once again.  This lasted for a little over a mile, when I finally had enough of the little kiddies running every which way, and I exited “The Greenbelt” and went back to riding in a more comfortable and, on that day at least, a safer environment:  the city streets!

An Odd Gift: The Foster Brick

The Foster Brick:  Quite literally a
building block in Boise's history.

There’s an old home situated along my mail route that just doesn’t fit in with the rest of the neighborhood.  It is smaller in stature compared to the other homes around it, and looks as though a room or two was added on as the family grew.  (Indeed, this seems to actually be the case!)  Apparently this house was one of the first few buildings in the neighborhood.

An old man by the last name of Foster lives there.  When I first got this route (about 15 years ago), Mr. Foster was probably in his 70’s.  Everyday that I’d come by he’d either be outside in his coveralls working on an old truck of his, working in the yard or tending to the house.  Assuming, of course, that he wasn’t off doing maintenance work somewhere else.

His wife died about seven years ago and it seems that age started catching up with him after that dramatic change in his life.  I rarely see him now; his sleep schedule is mixed up and, on the rare occasion that he is outside when I come by, he looks like he’s going to lose his balance and crumble into a heap on the sidewalk.  But last summer both he and his daughter were outside when I came by.

“Rich!  Dad has a gift for you!” she said as I got out of the mail vehicle, walking toward the two of them to hand over their mail.  “He spent all morning out here looking for the best one, and he wants you to have it!”  I tried to keep a happy smile and hide my confusion.  What in the world was I about to have unloaded on me that came from around this old house?  And then he reached into the plastic shopping bag and pulled out… a brick. 

He was beaming like he was presenting me with a gold nugget the size of my fist.  A brick???  (Mental note to self:  keep smiling, act happy; think of something intelligent to say.)  “There must be a story behind this brick?” I asked. 

“Yes,” the daughter replied.  “It’s a Foster brick.”  (That was helpful.)  But then between the two of them the story unfolded.

Apparently around the beginning of the twentieth century his grandfather found a clay deposit in the area that was this neighborhood.  The clay was perfect for brick making.  And so began the enterprise that would become Foster and Son – a major supplier of bricks for the Boise area, and most likely all of southern Idaho.  The business would grow over the years; brick manufacturing would evolve from hand molds to machine made brick.

The brick pictured here was one of the original Foster bricks made by hand; this brick was created in (or very close to) 1904.  To buy this brick in that day a customer would have to part with three cents.  I found a cost of living calculator on the Internet (that only went back to the year 1913); three cents then is equal to seventy-nine cents now.  You can find comparable bricks at stores such as Lowe’s for just over fifty cents, but the quality seems to be much lower.

The Foster bricks were used in construction in turn-of-the-century Boise, and many of the homes and commercial buildings of the day were built with Foster bricks.  Some of these [now historic] buildings are still standing today.

The business flourished until the depression hit the United States, and then declined until the assets were sold to take care of mounting debts.  All that remains today are a few bricks in Mr. Foster’s yard and the one brick with a proud spot on one of my curio shelves.  The neighborhood around Mr. Foster’s home that I’ve been delivering mail in for all these years is known as Foster Heights.  I now understand why.

In a section of the September 19, 1916 edition of The Brick and Clay Record called “In The Wake of the News”, small personal snippets and events “of a Host of Interesting Happenings in the Varied Fields of Clayworking” were printed.  States were listed alphabetically, and under Idahowas the following entry:

“With a daily capacity of 30,000 brick and operated by a force of twenty-six men, the Foster and Son’s brick manufacturing plant at Boise, Idaho, is now one of the largest in the state, altho only a few months old.  On the same site thirty years ago the elder member of the firm, Frank Foster, Sr., started the manufacture of hand-mold brick, raking the clay from the surface of the land.  This he abandoned in 1911.  Long before this time, however, in sinking a well, Mr. Foster noticed a heavy blue substance suspended in the water flushed to the surface, revealing the presence of blue clay underneath.  In investigating his theory of the hidden deposit, founded years before at the time the well was drilled, a shaft was sunk this spring that proved the presence of the clay, which was found in a vein twelve feet in thickness and lying twenty-eight feet below the surface.  Immediately the plant was rebuilt, modern machinery installed and the manufacture of brick undertaken on a large scale.  A ready demand exists for the product of Foster and Son and a prosperous business has already been built up by the firm.”

I’ve received many little trinkets over the years from customers who have a special place in my heart, but who would have ever guessed that a brick would become my favorite?

Please Try Fact-Checking Before Hitting “Forward”!

Most times this is the only key you'll ever need.

Does anybody believe in telling the truth anymore?  Or, should I say, writing the truth?  Seriously… every time I download e-mail I’m assaulted with an article that some well-meaning person has forwarded along to enlighten me with.  I’m to the point where I usually hit “delete” after reading the subject line – because you know that the rest is going to contain some form of spin, contamination or alteration of the truth.

Case in point:  an article I received a couple of weeks ago.  “An Interesting Take on Trump” by William J. Bennett.  Does the name sound familiar?  Of course it does.  He was the former Secretary of Education and is now the host of “Bill Bennett’s Morning in America” radio show.  And his name was blatantly tacked onto the op-ed piece to give it credibility.  Let’s be honest; if I were to write this article and e-mail it around, it would probably die instantly.  But if a big name wrote the same piece of pap, then everyone would immediately accept it as true, or at least worthy of consideration.

So I looked this article over.  Some of the points sounded credible.  This was an op-ed piece, so rather than being based solely upon truth it is based on someone’s opinion.  It could be some conspiracy theorist sitting in his basement by the computer, or it could be someone with keen insight into the political world.  It was probably written by the former, and tagged with a recognizable name (like the latter).  And that’s when the article, no matter how good it might have been on its own merit, became a lie.

You’ve seen countless examples of this yourself over the Internet years.  Robin Williams used to get falsely attributed to many articles, some funny and some not.  So did George Carlin.  See a trend?  People who made us laugh obviously are worth listening to no matter what the subject.  Right?  Not when they didn’t say it!  Allowing some clown to filter his opinion around the world simply by tagging a celebrity’s name to the piece isn’t acceptable!

It’s not just opinion pieces.  There are scams, and possible examples of practical jokers pulling one over on the world.  Remember e-mails that touted how AOL, Microsoft, Disney (and others) were testing a beta program and would pay you money over the next two weeks if you forwarded the e-mail?  Total bull.  Made up… no truth whatsoever.  And yet inboxes were flooded with this crap.

“But what if it’s true and I don’t forward it?  I’ll be missing out on a great deal!”  Yeah, yeah, yeah… and what if you’re standing in your back yard at night doing a little stargazing and an alien craft comes by and abducts you for a little anal probing?  Both have equal chances of happening.

So what are you going to do?  If you’re not sure about an e-mail you receive, either delete it or go to a fact checking website and see if it’s real.  If it is, cut and paste the web link from the verification page and then send it on.  If it’s false, you might want to point it out to the sender by sending them the link to the page that debunks the story.  You might also want to suggest that they fact check these things before passing them along. 

Yes, this pisses some people off.  There are those who believe that you’re being overly critical of them whenever you point out that something they’ve forwarded is false.  Too bad, you big babies.  When you forward something that is clearly a lie, or a piece that has been tagged with a well-known name to give it more credibility, you have become a liar yourself.  And I, for one, am tired of it.  Take the time to fact check your garbage before you hit the “forward” button!

What’s worse than people who, in their ignorance, forward pieces on (believing they’re performing a public service)?  People who know a piece is a lie, but forward it on anyway.

A classic example:  “In God We Trust” has been removed from the new dollar coin.    E-mails circulated telling people that “God was being forced out of America” by the omission of the phrase on the new coins.  Don’t accept these coins!   Boycott!  And so on.  I received one of these e-mails, and responded to the sender that this was not true.  The truth was that the phrase no longer appeared on the obverse or reverse of the coin, but on the edge of the coin.  (Also appearing on the edge was “E Pluribus Unim”, the mintmark and date.

The response I got for pointing this out was, “that’s not the point!”  Which is interesting.  If being honest isn’t the point, then what is?

Here’s the point.  People who would normally wrap themselves in the flag and cradle the Bible in their arms while spewing platitudes about “honesty is the best policy” will also turn the other cheek and lie out of the side of their mouth if it advances their cause.  “The end justifies the means” does not mean always being honest, and folks… it’s that time again when this is going to come home full-force.  Be on your guard for blatant bullshit slinging:  political season in America is in full swing!

Received an e-mail you’re not sure about?  (Which should be every e-mail these days!)  Try looking it up on these sites before sending it on:

www.snopes.com

www.truthorfiction.com