Going Postal

The other day, I received a simple dose of efficiency.
The package delivery lady was evidently running late - or perhaps on time - and hopped the elevator and left me hanging.
So, I had to wait for the elevator to come back up and as I did, I began thinking... about going postal.

Photo courtesy via CC

You know, I feel for the Post Office. This semi-governmental agency (which is not funded by taxes) seems to be in a pickle. As budgets and cuts are discussed through the year 2013, like a sore that never heals... the Post Office will probably come up for discussion. Sure it needs some changes and realignments... actually, one of the first realignments should be who the Post Office reports to.... Congress.

The Post Office gets it's hand slapped for many reasons, one of which is asking to stay afloat. They (Congress) haven't allowed it to cut out non-essential offices. So the P.O. has to deliver to far off places, on Saturdays, that other package places won't. They (Congress) haven't allowed it to use funds it has been required to pay for its pension, (thereby overpaying) to cover it's losses (since it has no say in whether it can raise it's rates to cover said losses). They (Congress) also haven't allowed the USPS to become more efficient, for instance, reducing delivery from six days to five. I tell you, that postal person delivering on Saturday afternoons seems so lonely.... As an agency or a business or whatever it is, the Post Office seems to have it's hands tied.

Is there really a need to to gut this institution? Prefund their pension? Are you kidding me? Who else has been required to do such a thing?

The Post Office seems to be behaving just as one could expect with the Congressional "relationship", "leadership" and "parental guidance" it has grown under.

Post Office = P.O. = United States Postal Service = USPS

And since this is a family blog, I'm gonna make it personal.
How many folks do you know that work or have worked at a local Post Office?
I can name quite a few - but will focus on just one that is special to me.

My dad/father has worked for the Post Office since 1988 - so yes, I am really biased. He is the kinda guy that likes to work. He was raised on a farm, he went to a war and served his country, came back and tried to find consistent work with private businesses, but kept getting laid off. So he eventually used his veterans' points and got a steady job at the P.O. And through this economy, he is the one person I know with a job, that hasn't blinked, he has had steady work - and is busy - as are how many other veterans and casuals working there?

My father works hard, as does the Post Office, generally speaking. Sure there are some Neanderthals, slouching around dragging their knuckles, gettin' in the way of things. But, there are also effective postal workers, delivering the mail, dry calloused hands from handling paper - mixed with dry wit - getting fit, often enough with some smile on their face. Though far from perfect, I wouldn't call other package delivery places perfect either. In fact, don't many of them rely on the USPS for much of their service?

Also, my kids seriously enjoy fighting each other to get to the mailbox to see whether they have mail, or to see what is new. I do too. And it's good for us. We have to move and get up off our butts to get the mail, rather than sit, with bad posture, eyeing some screen, awaiting a message via email or some social whateveritscalledupdate (are we Neanderthals too?).

I know this is controversial, and I know everybody is an expert, just like the politicians that make up Congress, right?

But, the way I see it, is that if the economy were the human body, the Post Office would be the internal bones. Solid, there forever, built to assist movement and enhance structure. Something to fall back on. An agency of sorts that provides jobs to veterans coming back from war, (or they could work at Walmart), maybe. Did you know the Post Office is the largest employer of veterans and one of the largest employers of all minorities? It seems to be an answer to folks who want steady work.

It's just too bad everybody treats the P.O. like a bad cavity.

The Post Office has helped my folks: have homes, have food on their tables, assist their children to follow their dreams, and has offered solid retirement - taking the immediate burden off of me to assist.

Yes, I will continue going Postal, though I hope some changes are made. I see value in decent paying jobs for people whose skills don't completely line up with the current trends and hip innovations.

(Plus the "efficient" private package company lady didn't hold the elevator for me...)

Stupid Conundrum

Lately we have been in a stupid conundrum. Our youngest has learned the word “stupid”, from his older brothers, who evidently learned it from others, perhaps us.  The term “stupidhead” has been used around the house a little too often lately – between the boys and as we are entering the cabin fever phase of winter, hearing "stupid" has gotten too commonplace.

I seriously believe it is one of those that came out from the great elementary school melting pot… and this is probably just the beginning. Other various terms of endearment will probably be coming down the pipe soon enough - ugh.

As our youngest begins to speak more fluently and picks up vocabulary from around the house – it is difficult to not relate the situation to a gutter. As in a gravity fed, potty open mouthed system, directing mass its way, picking up everything that is washed into it… good or bad.

Our third isn’t a gutter, but he does pick up various things that the rest of the family does or says - with seemingly more influence from his older siblings than his parents. And it seems fairly difficult, as busy parents, to direct only good things, "pleasant thoughts" (where is Glinda when you need her?) into their heads.

I’ve been trying to get him to say “Scooby” as in “scoobyhead” instead of stupid. It’s a halfhearted battle and there isn’t much coming out of it. And as we all know, the intent is the same.

Although when he says it at this point, he only truly means it negatively 50% of the time as compared to just stomping around saying stupid. Which seems to start relaying to that term “stupid is as stupid does”….

We have also, as of the past week, started an attempt at scrubbing the word from our household’s existence. Saying “don’t say that word!” as soon as it is said – by anybody in the household. But, this reaction seems to be procuring more “stupid” action. As in, I believe this is only enabling it to get used more often – perhaps as a means for attention….? Maybe eventually we will scrub with soap...

Is that it? Is he looking for attention? After we have spent all this time together over the holidays? But how productive was the time? Much of what came from the elves made for such selfish pleasures… perhaps. Perhaps we should just ignore it is being said… stupid word.

I look forward to MLK weekend – a true bonus weekend. A longer winter respite away from almost every want and crafty, consumer-driven, attention-grabbing, endeavor. And in honor of a great man, from who's mouth flowed words that others weren't in agreement as well...

Hopefully stupid will be in the rearview mirror by then.
Suddenly feeling the urge to go bowling.

Zombie Sledding

Bursts of snow about

Sub frozen weather surrounds

The three glide swiftly over moguls and ridges

Like missiles launched across a no-mans’ land

The tracks left behind offer trailings of continuity from one end to the other

Chased by racers who also want that champion run

A complete glide, straight-away to the edge of the landing pad

At the bottom there is little rest for the weary… they must begin the march

The trek back, against the wind, avoiding the falling flakes

Back up the hill, step one, step two

Instrument of mischief dragged behind

Initial urgency begins to slow

Cheeks red from exertion and not yet frostbitten

They’ve reached the top! What a feat! But who cares?

Must keep going, back down for the next round across the frozen tundra

Before their feet get cold and toes stiff

But they are getting tired, their march up has turned to waddle (like penguins)

In a zombie-like trance weathered and weary but thirsting for the next go

Too bad dad said its time to go home.