Dear Mr. Postman (again),
First of all, it makes me really happy when I see your scruffy face behind the counter at the post office. You seem to talk more and move faster than all the other post office workers. And you certainly have more personality.
This week, you said, “Anything explosive? Flammable? Dangerous? Spellbinding? Entertaining? Staggering or heartbreaking?”
“No no no yes yes definitely,” I hurried to keep up.
“Applications? English? Teaching?” you rapid-fired, barely glancing at one 9 x 12 envelope.
“Writing,” I said.
“I’m a songwriter, you know,” you said. I didn’t know. So you told me more about it.
Journey was kind of your style, but a little different, you know, and have you ever heard of The Roaches, from New Jersey? On YouTube, The Roaches from New Jersey, I should really look them up, good band, good sound, so you were humming one day and a friend said it sounded just like a The Roaches song, and you looked them up, on YouTube, and it was, your song was just like them, so you sent them a tape, and they liked it, they did.
“They liked it? That’s great,” I say, glancing at the 10 Christmas packages marching down the aisle, the 5:47 pm clock, my envelopes stacked and stamped and not going anywhere.
“Yeah, but I want them to record it, you know, not just like it, so,” you say. “Hey!” you say, “hey do you still have cassette tapes? You know cassettes? You bring one in and I’ll make you a tape, a cassette tape, for you, one writer to another.”
“Next week,” I promise. “I’ll be back next week.”
Do I have cassette tapes? I think my car still plays them…maybe I can let him record over an old Neil Diamond tape? But I love Neil Diamond. But do I want to pay for a new blank tape? Maybe my mother, from when she did research and stuff– you know, back in the nineties. With cassette tapes.
Mixed tapes = definitely in for Christmas. Your loved ones will appreciate the hours you spend rewinding, and pausing, and backing up just a little, then forward…almost…just one more…damn missed it again…
The Roaches = they’re something all right. Perhaps something on the radio.
Cheers, ciao, au revoir my funny moustached mailman, until we meet again.
MM
