Maillady

Maybe I am way out in left field with this statement, but I don’t think enough people appreciate their mailmen (ladies). As I am a maillady, I feel this is true. If every one at Christmas time would show us they do care by giving a card or even 25 cents, we would feel more wanted.

My experience of the postal department is dominated by the dedication of my mailman and my maillady through the years, who chased my steers and signed for my C.O.D.’s, retrieved letters that I mailed accidentally, sold me stamps and made up my shortages out of pocket.

Even if we think that “postman” sounds better in a song, we should use “mailman” if that is what the children are used to calling him. If some children have a maillady or mailwoman coming to their homes, we shall have to accommodate them by fitting those people into the songs.

“What does a girl need college for?” my father’s words come rippling to me, from way back when he sorted mail, in the wave from my maillady, as I wave back with spring in my lungs, out jogging, […] I note Molly’s sensuality, and I toy with carpe uniform, trading the maillady, let her carry my pen just to be unfettered by letters […]