On any given day on a New York City Side Street
other than the occasional dog walker or passing car..
A USPS truck will pull up and a
postman will emerge pushing a blue cart filled with mail
My building has a particularly nice USPS worker named Bob Seung
Which is when the trouble begins. Because today between emails, e bills and auto withdrawals, there is virtually nothing worth waiting for from the US mail. Except for solicitations, promotions and shameless entreaties to donate. Better known as "Junk Mail".
Most people just throw these stacks away but I cannot. It is my obligation to go steadily through the pile in the off chance that something important might emerge.. like "your electric bill is overdue - last call. Shut off tomorrow"! So I am on a constant campaign to reduce my junk mail. Which is not easy. First there is the distraction of something vaguely enticing that I don't actually need..
And then there's the urge to reach out and explain myself - why I am heartlessly ignoring the undernourished child in Sri Lanka or the Jewish Brail Foundation of New Jersey or Elizabeth Warren supporting an anti Trump candidate for congress in Scranton PA.
the guilt of not giving to a good cause without explaining my devotion to trees and the environment is wrenching. Which is why I take the time to phone each charity to be removed..
and take the time to email every single organization to explain that while I am supportive of their cause, I want to save our trees.. would prefer to follow them on line. Which happens to be the truth.
or even beg Mr Seung to take "return to sender"
The final resort, my shredder running 24/7
But I've noticed lately that my mail has thinned out. And I have achieved the holiest of holly - a clean Desk! A fresh start. A clean slate!
But the world has a funny way of intruding..
So When Mr. Make America Great Again and his part of the 1 per centers starts carving up social programs I know it's time to act. Which is why in the dark of night I visited my local Food Bank...
with a no return address, phone number or email..
Now, when the USPS truck turns down my street..
It just sails on by...