Delivering the Mail
We've been hearing a lot lately about the U. S. Postal Service's struggle to survive in this world of e-mail and online magazines. Additionally, private companies, such as UPS and Fed Ex, have gradually taken over much of our country's package delivery. Postal rates can only be raised so high, or the post office will never be able to compete with private companies. Let's face it: there is less mail these days, and more competition from the private sector than ever before. Yet, even with all of these changes, most Americans insist that the U.S. Postal Service, as we know it, should not change. We shudder to think that some postal workers may be laid off and some smaller post offices may need to be closed. On a more personal level, we want to keep our mail service just the way it is; we like picking up our mail from our convenient front porch or roadside mailboxes, six days a week, rain or shine. I don't have a solution to this dilemma, but I can't help but wonder what my Grandpa Wegner would think if he were still alive and delivering mail today.
Grandpa Wegner started working for the post office in Bloomfield, Nebraska, long before I was born. He started out sorting the mail, working at the front desk, and substituting for sick or vacationing letter carriers. By the time I was two years old, he was delivering mail on the rural route he served until he retired. When we lived on the farm, Grandpa delivered our mail every day. I remember walking down the lane with Mom so we could meet Grandpa at our mail box, just to say "Hi" and talk about the weather. Sometimes, he brought us a fresh-baked loaf of bread from Grandma, and sometimes, we gave him a dozen eggs to take back home when he finished his mail route. Even on those days when Grandpa beat us to the mailbox, we waved him on his way up the road to our neighbor's mailbox.
Grandpa furnished his own vehicle for his job. He put so many miles on each Chevy that he traded his car once a year for a new model. I remember that he duct-taped a large rectangle on the passenger's door to protect it from damage when he opened mailboxes, thus adding to the car's trade-in value. None of his cars had light bars, like today's mail vehicles usually do, but Grandpa's cars had power windows and air conditioning long before they were standard features for most cars. Some rural letter carriers bought special-ordered cars with right side steering wheels, but Grandpa thought that was too extravagant. His solution was simpler. He used a wooden board, a salvaged double seat from an old parochial school desk, that stretched three-fourths of the way across his front bench seat. After he sorted the mail for his route every morning, he arranged the mail bundles consecutively across the back seat, placing the one he needed in front where he could reach it easily. Then, as he pulled up to each mail box, he slid across the slick board on the front seat to the open passenger window, opened the mailbox, removed any letters that needed to be sent elsewhere, put the mail inside the mailbox, and slid back across the seat so he could drive on to the next mailbox. If the next mailbox was close by, Grandpa sat in the middle of the seat with his left foot riding the brake as he coasted a few feet forward so he could put the mail in the next box.
Whenever the weather was good and the roads were dry, Grandpa drove his Chevy to deliver the mail. But, when the roads were muddy or covered with snow, Grandpa drove the Scout. The Scout was a four wheel drive vehicle, similar to the SUVs that have been so popular in recent years. Grandpa bundled up whenever he drove the Scout, because the heater wasn't nearly as good as the one in his car. I don't think that the Scout had power windows, either, so the passenger window had to stay down most of the time, even when the weather was cold and snowy. Grandpa kept each Scout for several years, since he only drove it when the roads were muddy or snow-covered.
Grandma sometimes accompanied Grandpa on his mail route when the roads were bad, so he could concentrate on his driving while she sat on the passenger side of the Scout, opening and closing the window when necessary, and putting the mail in each mailbox, or even getting out of the Scout to place the mail in a box that was surrounded by too much snow. Grandpa could get the mail delivered much faster when he had a passenger along to help.
Grandpa's mail route was arranged so that he could come back to town at noon to eat lunch at home, before continuing with the short leg of his route after lunch. Grandma always had his lunch ready and on the table when he arrived. When Dan, Laura, and I stayed with Grandpa and Grandma in Bloomfield for a week each summer, we took turns riding with Grandpa for the afternoon portion of his mail route, which usually took less than an hour to complete. It was so exciting to run the control for the power window when I got to ride along with Grandpa! If a postal patron had outgoing mail in the box, I had to remove it first and put the flag down. Then, Grandpa handed me the mail, and I put in it the mailbox. As Grandpa drove, he pointed out pheasants and horses in the nearby fields, teased about mice or snakes that may have taken up residence in the next mailbox, and commented about the families who lived along each road. Riding with Grandpa provided a rare opportunity to get to know him better. We all treasured the experience.
In later years, when Grandpa was elected to be the vice president, and then president, of the Nebraska Rural Letter Carriers' Association, he and Grandma drove to several national conventions. The year I turned fourteen, Aunt Ellen and I got to go along to the convention in Hot Springs, Arkansas, right in the heart of the Ozarks. Two years later, Mom and Dan went along to the convention in Oregon. (Unfortunately, Laura missed out on a trip because Grandpa retired before she turned fourteen.) It was a rare treat to take a road trip across the country, and to stay in a motel with a pool. The convention itself included special activities for children and teens, as well as banquets for everyone, but the trip through the unfamiliar countryside was the best part. It was a unique experience for me, because I didn't remember ever being any further from home than South Dakota or northern Kansas.
These days, rural mail carriers are not allowed to take any passengers who don't work for the postal service. In the future, the Post Office, as we've known it for considerably more than a hundred years, may change even more dramatically, or even cease to exist. I don't think that Grandpa ever expected the U.S. Postal Service to become obsolete. He would be amazed at the changes that are being proposed. We all take our mail for granted. For now, it's something that's just there, every day, thanks to faithful mail carriers like my Grandpa.
Grandpa Wegner started working for the post office in Bloomfield, Nebraska, long before I was born. He started out sorting the mail, working at the front desk, and substituting for sick or vacationing letter carriers. By the time I was two years old, he was delivering mail on the rural route he served until he retired. When we lived on the farm, Grandpa delivered our mail every day. I remember walking down the lane with Mom so we could meet Grandpa at our mail box, just to say "Hi" and talk about the weather. Sometimes, he brought us a fresh-baked loaf of bread from Grandma, and sometimes, we gave him a dozen eggs to take back home when he finished his mail route. Even on those days when Grandpa beat us to the mailbox, we waved him on his way up the road to our neighbor's mailbox.
Grandpa furnished his own vehicle for his job. He put so many miles on each Chevy that he traded his car once a year for a new model. I remember that he duct-taped a large rectangle on the passenger's door to protect it from damage when he opened mailboxes, thus adding to the car's trade-in value. None of his cars had light bars, like today's mail vehicles usually do, but Grandpa's cars had power windows and air conditioning long before they were standard features for most cars. Some rural letter carriers bought special-ordered cars with right side steering wheels, but Grandpa thought that was too extravagant. His solution was simpler. He used a wooden board, a salvaged double seat from an old parochial school desk, that stretched three-fourths of the way across his front bench seat. After he sorted the mail for his route every morning, he arranged the mail bundles consecutively across the back seat, placing the one he needed in front where he could reach it easily. Then, as he pulled up to each mail box, he slid across the slick board on the front seat to the open passenger window, opened the mailbox, removed any letters that needed to be sent elsewhere, put the mail inside the mailbox, and slid back across the seat so he could drive on to the next mailbox. If the next mailbox was close by, Grandpa sat in the middle of the seat with his left foot riding the brake as he coasted a few feet forward so he could put the mail in the next box.
Whenever the weather was good and the roads were dry, Grandpa drove his Chevy to deliver the mail. But, when the roads were muddy or covered with snow, Grandpa drove the Scout. The Scout was a four wheel drive vehicle, similar to the SUVs that have been so popular in recent years. Grandpa bundled up whenever he drove the Scout, because the heater wasn't nearly as good as the one in his car. I don't think that the Scout had power windows, either, so the passenger window had to stay down most of the time, even when the weather was cold and snowy. Grandpa kept each Scout for several years, since he only drove it when the roads were muddy or snow-covered.
Grandma sometimes accompanied Grandpa on his mail route when the roads were bad, so he could concentrate on his driving while she sat on the passenger side of the Scout, opening and closing the window when necessary, and putting the mail in each mailbox, or even getting out of the Scout to place the mail in a box that was surrounded by too much snow. Grandpa could get the mail delivered much faster when he had a passenger along to help.
Grandpa's mail route was arranged so that he could come back to town at noon to eat lunch at home, before continuing with the short leg of his route after lunch. Grandma always had his lunch ready and on the table when he arrived. When Dan, Laura, and I stayed with Grandpa and Grandma in Bloomfield for a week each summer, we took turns riding with Grandpa for the afternoon portion of his mail route, which usually took less than an hour to complete. It was so exciting to run the control for the power window when I got to ride along with Grandpa! If a postal patron had outgoing mail in the box, I had to remove it first and put the flag down. Then, Grandpa handed me the mail, and I put in it the mailbox. As Grandpa drove, he pointed out pheasants and horses in the nearby fields, teased about mice or snakes that may have taken up residence in the next mailbox, and commented about the families who lived along each road. Riding with Grandpa provided a rare opportunity to get to know him better. We all treasured the experience.
In later years, when Grandpa was elected to be the vice president, and then president, of the Nebraska Rural Letter Carriers' Association, he and Grandma drove to several national conventions. The year I turned fourteen, Aunt Ellen and I got to go along to the convention in Hot Springs, Arkansas, right in the heart of the Ozarks. Two years later, Mom and Dan went along to the convention in Oregon. (Unfortunately, Laura missed out on a trip because Grandpa retired before she turned fourteen.) It was a rare treat to take a road trip across the country, and to stay in a motel with a pool. The convention itself included special activities for children and teens, as well as banquets for everyone, but the trip through the unfamiliar countryside was the best part. It was a unique experience for me, because I didn't remember ever being any further from home than South Dakota or northern Kansas.
These days, rural mail carriers are not allowed to take any passengers who don't work for the postal service. In the future, the Post Office, as we've known it for considerably more than a hundred years, may change even more dramatically, or even cease to exist. I don't think that Grandpa ever expected the U.S. Postal Service to become obsolete. He would be amazed at the changes that are being proposed. We all take our mail for granted. For now, it's something that's just there, every day, thanks to faithful mail carriers like my Grandpa.
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