The Mail Box

Many years ago, when my family was growing and it seemed the right time to buy a house, we did. It was a house that needed a lot of work. I mean, A LOT OF WORK! Even so, the only way to afford a mortgage and have money to fix up the house was to rid ourselves of a car payment. So I sold my car and bought a motorcycle.

I was managing a hotel in Birmingham, Alabama and needed to be dressed appropriately each day. So I took all my suit coats and sport coats and put them in the closet in my office. In this way I could dress for the day, throw on a waist coat (not to be confused with an English waist coat) and ride to work. The idea was I should have to do this for about a year. I should achieve a decent bonus the next spring and that would dictate what car I would be able to buy. This all went as planned; but not without a logistical challenge here and there.

We had a two year old and a new born. So obviously, we were very busy as we sanded floors, repaired drywall, painted, poured cement, etc…. But there was one item that had been identified by my then-spouse as the defining improvement. “I’ll know we’ve really arrived when that mailbox is replaced.”

The mailbox was a standard box on a pole - a pole bent at about a 20 degree angle. From the rust on the pole, I judged it had been hit and bent sometime during the Nixon era. (For a reference point, I believe this was the Bush era – Sr. not Jr.) It didn’t seem to be hampering our ability to receive mail, so it wasn’t at the top of my list of priorities. But I knew it was important to someone else, so after a few weeks in the house, I decided to take care of it.

As a surprise, I took a day off when no one would be home, and set to work on replacing the mailbox. Me having a motorcycle, and trying to do this on the QT, I had to shuttle a new mailbox, cement, and mailbox stand on my motorcycle. This ended up taking much of the morning, at the end of which I couldn’t find my wallet. I retraced my steps numerous times – actually walking the two miles to and from the Home Depot - but no wallet.

As I was standing in the living room looking out the front window, on the phone canceling my credit cards, I noticed something jammed down by the back wheel on my motorcycle. Sure enough, my wallet must have fallen out of my back pocket and, luckily, wedged itself by the wheel. Back in business!! And time to get to work.

I set about digging up the old pole. But every time I stuck my shovel in the dirt I hit cement. No matter how far I was getting away from the pole, I was still hitting cement. It turned out that no post hole was dug here. Visions of a back-hoe and a case of beer flitted across my consciousness as I pictured a couple of friends laughing and putting this thing in back in 1970. "I'd hate to be the guy who ever tries to replace this mailbox! HAHAHAHAH..."

Hours later, I had the excavation complete. But there was a hole 5 feet wide. So I decided that to get the new box stable, I better move it. In order to figure out the correct depth, I pieced together the new stand/fancy pole - then dug the hole. (Stay with me) But the pole needed to be taken back apart for assembly to the mailbox. Two hammers, a crow bar, skinned knuckles, and another hour later, the fancy pole was bent worse than the original - time for another trip to Home Depot for a new fancy pole.

As the sun was setting, and I still had not completed the mail box, I knew I was out of time. I was tired, sore and frustrated as I sat heavily in the middle of the front yard… atop a large fire ant colony. As the ants swarmed up my wrists and ankles, I thought I heard a tiny little voice yell “NOW!” as they bit down in unison and I ran for the hose. I estimate that I amassed around 40 or 50 little red welts. As I rinsed the ants off I was feeling lucky to have not been bitten more. But I knew I had one more trip to the store to make.

Back from that final errand with a six pack, and darkness setting in, I drank a beer and admired the beautiful Alabama evening, and wondered where my friends with a back-hoe and case of beer might be.