Junk Mail

By Jack McDonough

When I was growing up in Dover, N.H., in the middle of the 20^th century, our mailman was Tom Bell. In those World War II years, we actually knew the name of the person who slipped mail through the slot in our front door – twice a day!  With a mailbag over his shoulder, Tom would walk to our house at the end of the street, rain or shine, six days a week. No mail trucks or scooters in that era. We kids would greet him with “Hi, Tom,” and he’d smile and say hello. He knew our names. What Tom delivered were bills and letters. The correspondents seeking money were asking for payment of goods or services they had provided. There also were the usual greeting cards – birthdays, Christmas and other special days – and sometimes a hand written letter!

How times have changed. Those who deliver our mail these days are mostly anonymous and, so as to be politically correct, we no longer call them “mailmen.” They are now “letter carriers” despite the fact that they deliver few if any actual letters.

The majority of what the postal service delivers today is guilt. On average, my household receives twenty-five requests for money each week. But these petitioners are not seeking payment for goods or services provided. They just want me to give them money for their school or hospital or endangered animals or disadvantaged children living half a world away. While most are probably worthy causes, their aim clearly is to instill guilt in the recipient.

Enough already. Some of these petitioners crowd into my mailbox two or three times a month. Maybe more. I shout at their envelopes, “I just sent you a check last month! Leave me alone.”

Their plea often includes a “gift.” I know it’s there because the envelope announces, “Free Gift inside.” Nothing better than a “gift” that’s free. These presents run the gamut — tiny note pads with five sheets of paper, greeting cards, ersatz jewelry, dimes or nickels, and the two favorites, calendars and return address stickers. Before the end of June this year, I received four 2026 wall calendars! And hardly a week goes by that I don’t receive enough return address stickers to last a lifetime. (This strategy is especially puzzling in an age when no one writes letters and most bills are probably paid online.)

Other envelopes get a little testy. These, in bold face capital letters, demand, “Open Immediately” or “Reply by” some date or “Matching Gift Offer” or they instruct the Postmaster to handle this important envelope according to such and such a Postal Regulation. As if any postmaster needs it, heeds it or even reads it.

This constant barrage of unsolicited mail leads one to wonder if the expense is worth it to those seeking my money. I suppose the answer must be “yes,” or they wouldn’t keep doing it.

Alas. There’s no relief in sight. I’ll just get tennis elbow slitting open those two dozen pleas a week. You never know. I don’t have a calendar for 2027 yet.