The line at the post office
Philosophy and I don’t exactly get along. There’s something about stoicism and the bigger picture—the wider perspective—that I’m no good at. I’m too spicy, too emotional. My wife says it’s the Scorpio in me.
I’ve tried reading the classics: Letters from a Stoic by Seneca, Meditations by Marcus Aurelias, Plutarch’s Lives, and some blogs here and there, mainly because people say doing so changes your life. Tech Bro’s say that a lot, I think they think it makes them look less like Tech Bro’s (it doesn’t).
The handy thing about philosophy, though, is that you can use it to shape-shift meaning into everyday interactions, meaningless or otherwise.
Like a visit to the post office.
Normally post office visits fill people with dread. Long lines of slumped shoulders awaiting to hear the fate of their packages is enough to keep even the Stoics at bay. Good luck finding the hidden life lessons in the news that your Amazon order of a faux brass cocktail shaker and a book on cloud sales is delayed by 3 weeks.
That may be the case in other post offices, but not in St. Croix. Not at the post office at the top of the hill in Frederiksted, zip code 00841.
Where other post offices are monotone arenas for misery and impatience, the Frederiksted outpost plays host to warm welcomes and fervent chit-chat. Like a local coffee shop or a post-pandemic reunion.
The best way to experience this is with a yellow slip in hand—the piece of paper that signals a package is waiting for you, which means you take your spot in the line that snakes away from the package retrieval window.
For anyone entering the post office, this line of people waiting sometimes looks like those pre-game hype tunnels you find in sports, except high-fives aren’t so liberally available during COVID times—fist bumps are, from time to time.
One by one, locals file in from the street, each time greeting their fellow post office dwellers with a good morning or good afternoon. Never a good night because it closes at 4:30 pm.
As you get closer to the window, the mailer calls your name, takes your slip, asks for your box number (0685, if you’re sending gifts), and disappears into the back where columns of unclaimed mail and towers of boxes resemble a small Victorian library.
Some days are more lively than others and today is one of those days.
The woman ahead of me has busted the chops of everyone who’s walked through the doors. Even through masked faces she’s spotting friends and razzing anyone who dares to keep their eyes down. If you think you can get away without offering a greeting to your fellow strangers here, think again.
I try smiling through my mask, hoping that my eyes tell her I’m one of the good ones.
When the USPS worker returns with some packages to dispatch, she calls the woman’s name.
“Dawn?”
“Yes! That’s me,” she beams as she bounces forward and slaps the counter with her hand, before launching into a positive refrain that will stay with me forever.
“Without me there is no day. I’m the first thing we see as the sun rises in the east and I bring light to the world!”
She chuckles, acknowledging the eye-rolls that follow a canned line she’s probably been saying for years. Dawn then takes her package but stays at the counter to hurl warm banter at another employee who’s out of view from me. There are smiling eyes all around me.
Through the window I watch Dawn exit the post office. She doesn’t make it 6 feet before greeting another fellow post office patron in the parking lot. From my spot in line, I hear laughter and muffled conversations about kids, dinner plans, the good old days; nothing about the weather.
Sometimes my wife jokes about how often I go to the post office. I’ve been keeping a twice-per-week cadence since we arrived in search of my copy of the New Yorker, which now arrives a week later than it used to and only appears sporadically. But I keep my two appointments per week because every trip is another reminder of the good people out there.
Good people like Dawn, with her post office philosophy.
Help others enjoy a serving of Thought Dumplings by liking and sharing this post.
If someone forwarded you this email, you can subscribe here to receive a Thought Dumpling every two weeks.
*chef’s kiss*
Allan
One of your best ones to date, Stormton!