Some Postman

February 19, 2011 § 1 Comment

Getting my mail was a bit like the desperation of looking through a junk drawer. By my fourth empty-handed trip up and down the stairs and to the post, I want to dive in and get lost among the batteries, RSVPs, scissors, ticket stubs, twisty ties, coupons, chopsticks, stale cough drops, and pocket dictionaries. Perhaps the unimaginative US postal service spoiled me, but I’m a little disconcerted when the mailman sends me on goose chases before asking for my number. The battle was waged and won, and I eventually got my loot of treats from home.

The junk drawer is also a euphemism, or a microcosm rather, of the clutter we can’t and wont handle. In that vein, I would like to toss in Bahrain and Libya and other Arab governments with their absolutely intolerable treatment of their citizens. And the US’s “balancing act” reaction (ostensibly pro-democracy but only to the extent that it maintains our foothold) perfectly tucks this drawer underneath or beside the forks and spoons drawer, in just the right location to help forget they’ve been meaning to clean it. For those of us who don’t believe in expendable lives, watching the crackdowns on people asking for social justice in these areas is heart wrenching.

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§ One Response to Some Postman

  • Nicole says:

    Believe it or not, Mom organized their junk drawer! No, seriously! She bought these space divider things and went to town categorizing and labeling. You’d be proud.

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