The joy of a full mailbox
Any former kid my age who was a writer or otherwise interested in the past before he or she was personally alive will tell you what the real joy of full mailboxes can be like. So can any war veterans, but I digress.
Some of my fondest memories are things I had waiting for me in the mailbox when I came home from school. For example, I had a couple global pen pals back when I was young, including Lee Kim Koh of Malaysia and Lynda Desjerdin (I think) of Algeria. Both were dear friends for a time. Kim and I corresponded for a couple years, when I was a preteen/teen. Lynda and I kept in touch, though with increasingly less frequency, well into my college years.
The mailbox also brought be tapes of old radio programs my parents grew up listening to, or new music, or fascinating novels. And magazines were the best because most of them came monthly, except for TV Guide, which was a highlight of each week.
A mailbox can be a source of great joy when you’re a kid; despite all the junkmail, at least it’s not a source of joyless bills until later in life.



