DECEMBER... Home for the Holidays (Part 30c)

There was one other thing that I remember from that three week period. I got a letter from my Grandfather and in it was a letter accepting me to to work as an auxiliary letter carrier for the Post Office. The previous year, when I had to spend the whole holiday at my grandparents house, I had filled out an application at the Post Office. I had completely forgotten about it so was quite surprised and happy to receive it. Based on when we got off from school I would be able to work for 5 days. Even though I was in great need of money I hadn’t put any effort into finding a job while I was home. Elle was planning to work a few full shifts at the drug store prior to Christmas in her mother’s place. Because of the holiday her mother wanted to concentrate on her new pie business. So, from a time standpoint it was going to work for both of us.

To maximize the time I could work I stayed at my grandparents house on the night I got home from school. It had been a horrible trip home. We skidded off the road twice and by the time I climbed into bed it was almost 2 am. I had to be at the Post Office by 6am. By the time I filled out all the paperwork it was time to go out on the route and I was already tired. However, I got VERY lucky! I was assigned to an incredibly nice carrier. He and I got along right from the start. Basically, the only thing I did that first day was to carry the spare bag while I got “the lay of the land”, as he described it. The neighborhood we were in was very much blue collar. Everybody knew “Griz” and, in many cases he (and I) were given cookies as we traveled the route.

What I immediately found interesting was that there were quite a few garages that had been converted to living quarters. “Griz“ told me that when WWII was over many soldiers came home and were either married or got married soon after. With jobs scarce they moved in with their parents and, in some cases, made the garage a place to live. In each of these cases the address for the garage dwelling had an ”A“ added to the street number. At that period in time all mail was delivered to the houses and placed in a box by the front door or slipped through an opening in the door itself. For those ”garage houses“ it meant walking into back yards. Since it was a blue collar area and clothes dryers were relatively new and only owned by the rich, it meant wash was hung out to dry. A dream come true for someone like me.

That first day I followed ”Griz’ like a little puppy, taking in as much as I could. As I remember it I saw maybe 5 or 6 clothes lines that were full and actually got a few “peeks”. I had to be careful so as to not have “Griz” catch me looking. I knew from my paper route days that “wash day” was usually on or near the weekend and I couldn’t wait. By the time we finished up it was almost dark and I, not used to being on my feet for such a long stretch, was really dragging. I remember “Griz” insisting on calling his wife to come and pick us up. I was very thankful.

Elle wasn’t getting home until that night and although I'd told her I’d see her, there was no way. I ate supper and promptly fell asleep in the first chair my butt hit. My mother woke me up when she went to bed. The only thing I remember about that was in telling her to make sure I was up by 5:15am. (I was back living at home and it was a 20 minute trip to the Post Office in my grandfather’s town) When my father rocked me awake I couldn’t believe it was morning already. I ached everywhere but I managed to get up and to work on time. On this day I was allowed to help “Griz” sort mail. There were two “zones” in his route. I had to pack all “zone 2” mail into sacks that would be delivered out to a pick up mail box about 2/3 of the way through our route so we could finish up. I was told to separate that mail into odd and even house numbers. I had no idea why until we got out there. “Griz” had decided to let me actually handle and deliver mail to the houses with even numbers on the last part of the route. I liked the idea of having some actual responsibility. The problem was that on one of the first houses I went up to, the owner came out to get the mail from me and her dog, expecting “Griz”, I guess, took an instant disliking to me and proceeded to bite me. I survived but became very cautious after that. Having real responsibility must have masked the aches and pains because, by the time I saw the end of the route ahead I felt pretty good. The best was saved for last though. The house was set back from the road and in a small grove of trees. “Griz” had told me that the people liked their mail delivered to the back porch and to just cut through the trees to save time. As I made the turn at the back of the house, there, right in front of me on a line between two trees, were three pair of white nylon panties, blowing lightly in the wind. There was nothing else on the line with them. I know I stopped and stared for a few seconds. Oh how I wanted to go right up to them and to find the label... but of course, reason quickly took hold. On my way back to where “Griz” was I made sure I got another close look in the fading light. It helped make up for my very long day.

To be continued...