Happy Valentine's Day -or- Why My Mailman Rocks

I am single.
I am 32.
I am female.
Every year around this time everyone else is making dinner reservations at cozy restaurants, booking romantic getaways to bed and breakfasts, or just planning to put their kids to bed early and spend some quality time with their husband… while I am planning to eat chocolates and watch a movie with Dungee.
The amazing thing? I actually look forward to Valentine’s Day every year. In fact, I have been, for the past 27 years.

27 years ago I was a freckle-faced, rambunctious tom-boy growing up on the shores of Tamarack Lake. Meadville was childhood heaven to me. I felt safe on every street. I could ride my bike to the Bait barn and get a Snickers with my big sister. I knew the insides of all my neighbors’ houses, what they kept in their fridge, how to feed their dogs if they went out of town, and whether or not I could score ice cream in their kitchen on a hot day. My days were spent running through sprinklers, building forts, selling lemonade at a makeshift stand or sled riding through all that puffy white lake effect snow. Meadville was a warm, friendly town, where a kid could be a kid.

It was February and at school we were getting ready for Valentine’s Day. This meant we made little mailboxes to put on our desks out of shoeboxes, decorated in construction paper hearts, marker and glitter. My mom took me to K-Mart to pick out a box of Valentines to pass out. They had all the regular ones, like Scooby-Doo, Barbie and Sesame Street, but the ones I wanted had little cartoon blue-birds on them. When I got home, I opened the box and saw that one of the cards had a little blue-bird dressed up as a mailman, with a sack of mail over his shoulder. I decided immediately that this one, obviously, I would give to my mailman!
I wrote my name inside in childish handwriting, placed the Valentine in the tiny white envelope, licked it shut and wrote “to my Mailman” on the front and placed it in our mailbox at the end of our long driveway.

One of my chores was to get the mail every day, and the next day, as I opened my mailbox, I saw a big red thick envelope in there and it simply said on the front “To Mandy” I couldn’t believe it! I had MAIL! This was a completely magical world to me, the mail system! Someone wrote something to ME! I ripped the thick envelope open to find a big wrapped chocolate heart and a card inside. It read “From, your mailman.” I was overjoyed! I could write my mailman and he would write back?! Sure enough, every time I would write my mailman, I would find a reply within a day or two in my mailbox.

We soon established a set of unspoken rules. We would always send cards to each other on any official holiday, as well as on my birthday. We each would write simple updates on things we were doing. Mine involved school, being in plays, the basketball team. My Mailman’s involved ice fishing, his children and enjoying Tamarack Lake. We both signed off “Your Friend.”

This pen-pal friendship has lasted 27 years. No matter how many times I have moved, no matter how many times I have changed jobs, no matter how many boyfriends have come and gone, I know one thing. I will always, no matter what, on Valentine’s Day find a card in my mailbox from my mailman. Let me tell you this, those cards have cheered me up countless times over the years. The most important thing those cards do though is they give me faith in humanity. That people can be honest, caring, thoughtful and your friend, year after year after year. That I was blessed to grow up in a time where a 5 year old girl could befriend her mailman and it was something that was special, miraculous and would prove to be one of her truest friendships throughout her life.

My mailman and I have probably only physically seen each other a handful of times. Over the years we grew to know each other’s families and friends and dreams almost completely through our letters. My mailman became both a grandfather figure and a trusted friend. Sometimes I’ll find one of his letters in my mailbox and I’ll turn to whatever boyfriend I am dating at the time and say “Oh! It’s a letter my from my childhood mailman!” I’ll tell them the story, and they always say the same thing, that it is amazing, that it is sweet and that they didn’t think there were people out there like that any more.

Well, there are, and there is, right there in Meadville.
My mailman is now retired, and no longer delivers the mail. The past few years, he has been battling a sickness with bravery and heart, going ice-fishing with his grandson when the ice gets thick enough, his favorite thing to do besides spend time with his wife, children and grandchildren.

This Halloween I didn’t receive a card from him, a first, and my heart sank. I grew immediately worried and sent off a quick card to check in and see how he was doing. For the first time, I got a call back. He was fine, and apologized for missing the holiday, and explained that he is a bit sick these days. I immediately felt the pull to see my friend in person, after all these years.

When I went home for Christmas this year I made the very short drive to my mailman’s house and my mother and I sat with him and his family and shared stories, looked at photo albums and we talked instead of writing to each other. My mailman showed me how he has been hand-making “manly” bouquets for fellow friends that are sick. He designs them all himself, building these amazing flower displays out of golf clubs, or old fashioned headlights, hunting boots or fishing rods. He and his wife volunteer at the Sertoma club on a weekly basis. He ice-fishes with his grandson as much as possible. He wakes up every day, bravely overcoming any effects of his illness and looks at each day as a gift, glad to spend it with people he loves near the shores of Tamarack, where he learned to fish as a child.

That visit was long overdue and we’ve decided that we’ll keep visiting in person, each time that I go home, from now on. Our friendship has grown to include our families now, and what a gift to see that happen.

So, you see, Valentine’s Day brings something special to my heart every year. It brings the memories of Meadville as a child, it brings hope, it brings enduring friendship across generations, time and many, many miles. Every Valentine’s Day as I open my Valentine Card from my mailman I thank God for giving me such an amazing friend. What a gift.

If you find yourself without someone to swap Valentine’s with, or maybe just because you were inspired by this story, I welcome you to send a Valentine to my mailman, wishing him good health, lots of luck ice fishing and thanking him for being such a decent, honorable and amazing person.

This year's card

The Mailman
Freyermuth Road
Meadville, PA 16335