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bled from the heart of the matter

July 26, 2013

They say you never forget your first love. My first love was the mail lady. I doted upon her daily arrival and as soon as she appeared at the gate I would go running down to meet her and get the mail. This is how I broke my arm at the age of four; nothing cool or badass or adventurous, just running down the front steps to meet the mail lady and tripping over one’s own beloved dog.

I was wondering today, as I watched a mailman go swinging down a front step the way they always do, what sort of characters my kids will develop their first baby bumbling crushes on. There are rumors at large that the USPS may not be long for this life; I remember my first crushes, the mail lady, the garbage man, the ice cream man, the Marlboro man…one down, one still jaunty shorted in the face of possible obsolescence, two probably destined to be several of the last services standing as the human race burns out. At least that much is comforting: when the cowboy has faded into the sunset and only junk mail and wedding invitations are paper, there will always yet be the working class hero with the cool truck to fall in young love with.

Interesting. I never really put it together until just now but all of my early crushes have cool trucks (or horse). I also loved the UPS man.

I am

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