Where no negro has gone in awhile...

Sorry (Not Really). Time to go!

Have I ever told you that I like receiving mail? Not bills or junk mail, or traffic tickets with photos of me driving through a red light that was clearly yellow when I started across the line (hate those surprises).  But mail. Like my renewal notice for GQ or Ebony, or something from that friend that just had to show off that beautiful handwriting s/he's  been crafting since 3^rd grade.

When I was about 7 or 8 years old, I read a book about a boy, who, being sick and staying home from school,  made friends with his neighborhood mail carrier. I have always been intrigued by this world that was brought to my grandparents postal box everyday. See, we did not have a telephone in our home until 1990 (nor did we have $300 month bill thanks to teenagers). When needed to, we used my great-grandmother’s phone. So, we had this attachment to receiving mail. Kind of like watching VH1. from birthday cards to the holiday Wishbooks (still hoping for a G.I. Joe playset), and packages from family sending something we left behind in Chicago.  Like the boy in the story, I got to know my mailman by name. Danny, our white-male mail carrier for 20+ years, spoke to my great grandmother everyday after she retired and spent her days sitting on her front porch waiting for the mail.

When I reflect, this was a new Mississippi for her. She was Ms. Louise. Danny was our neighbor. He always asked my grandparents about me when I went away to college and he even stopped by the house when my great-grandmother passed away.

At some point, it all stopped. Danny stopped running the route. Email and other things replaced the mail we used to get. Sears and JC Penney damn near went out of business. The world stopped coming to my door, until two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago, the US Postal Service brought part of the world to my doorstep one more time in a big way. They delivered my passport. In my life, look a lot a brothers I know (and sisters complain about) I’ve never been to a beach, but I have seen the ocean. I’ve been to 21 states, lived in four, been to DC a half a dozen times (no Obama sightings, yet). And just now, with all the talk of traveling abroad when I was in college, I just took the steps to make it happen. What is the point of it all?

Danny no longer delivers my mail, because he retired. Sears and JC Penney discontinued the Wish book.  People send me more text and FB post for my birthday than cards. The world is not coming to my doorstep, good, bad or indifferent. And my world has changed, but my cousins have never known that. No one is going to bring that world of discovery to me anymore. On this one, my grandmother was right “ there are somethings you just have to see for yourself”.