My Two Cents

Beware, stamp prices will rise as of Sunday the 8th, from 37 cents to 39 cents. What's up with that? I'm trying to write any letters that need to be written now so that I don't have to waste my time going to the p.o. just to get correction stamps or whatnot.


I remember living in the Bronx and walking up 233rd street, making a left on White Plains Road, crossing over 232nd and going into the post office. The only time I've ever seen one comparable to what I considered eerie, majestic, cold, and impersonal was when I lived in Quincy, Ma. and had to run to that post office (but that was only a two time thing). There was something of a bygone era about it and always made me feel as if we were in a time warp, during the time we were in there.

The ceiling soared and everything was made out of marble and brass ornamentation. Every sound was a hushed echo and it was always dark and cool. Its sister must have been the library, both brought up by a sound forbidding mother. While mom bought stamps, paid for some delivery to somewhere, and stood in line, I would wander the cubes of p.o. boxes, twisting knobs and looking through little windows.

The most thrilling part of that post office was the two little hinged slots, parallel to one another and opening like two doors on their sides. That was where you slipped your mail into; outbound or local. I would grab mom's prestamped mail ($.22 at the time) and study them carefully, anything with "Bronx" on it would go in the lower slot and everything else was shot down the top slot. I'd keep the slot open and peer through it to see that they went down a slide and onto a big canvas bin.

Once out of the chill of the post office we would step into bright sun and I'd always be surprised that in front of me were busy cars, dirty streets and the elevated traintracks above me, spilling dirty liquids onto the ground below. Where were the buggies and men tipping their derby hats, and women in riding shirts and skirts with their hand clasped onto some gentleman's arm?

Well it's time to write all the letters that need to be written so as not to have to pay the extra two cents.

Have a great weekend y'all.

Me.