#burgoon

After starting up pen palling recently, I began to think about one of my fondest memories when I was growing up in the village of Burgoon, population 199. Sounds so rustic, doesn't it? "The village of Burgoon". It was actually the type of village that had those single lane roads with older houses with the occasional faded pink flamingo. Not many people seemed to take care of their yards for some reason but those that did stood out. Don't get me wrong, this was not anything like a ghetto, but people were just sort of laid back. We had a baseball field and a post office; that was it. Granted, I was only nine and half when we moved away but it was the type of place that felt like summer all year long. It always had that "free" feeling to it. You could do anything there and I loved it.

We're getting sidetracked.

We lived about 200 feet down the road from the post office and when us kids turned six we were allowed to walk down with the post office box key hanging from its purple shoestring and get the mail. It was the highlight of my day if I got to do it. I loved nothing more than walking down the oldest sidewalk in town, across Hosler Street and to the post office. Sometimes I'd even take our dog, Lulu, and tie her up outside. Little ol' me and sometimes the family dog.

I'd go in to unlock box 88 (the same number as my dad's favorite NASCAR driver at the time) and get the mail. There was always people inside talking to each other. Sometimes it was the mail carrier and the "post office lady" and sometimes it was some of the neighbors. I loved to take my sweet time getting the mail just to listen to them, nosy kid that I was.

If there was a yellow card telling me we had a package I would give it to the post office lady and she'd give me the package from behind the counter.

And she'd talk to me. I don't remember specific things she'd said to me, but she'd always talk to me. They were probably the usual things you'd say to a kid but I loved her for it. She was just a typical middle aged woman with dark hair and a perm, but she made an impact on my childhood. I liked going to get the mail just to see her! If she was at the counter when I came in, she would say hello and I thought it was the most wonderful thing. She was also the one who brought in Lofthouse cookies every holiday (or the day after if the post office had been closed). When you went to get your mail there were cookies sitting on the table that you could take. One time she sent me home with cookies for my brother and sister too.

There was one time I remember quite clearly that I wrote her a letter and included a sheet of stickers. I went to the post office just to give it to her. The next week she gave me a sheet of stickers in return.

I credit my love for the postal service directly to her and the mail carrier who was working there at the time who I also adored as a kid, although I didn't see him as much. It was my ambition to work in a post office (along with being a cashier at Wal-Mart... go figure) and it's still something that I would enjoy doing! (The post office, not Wal-Mart.)

Neither of them work at the Burgoon post office anymore. In fact "the post office lady" got another job and left before we moved away. The mail carrier still worked there though. He was even the one who delivered mail to our new mailbox, much to my delight. It was only recently that he retired.

Now I know that my "post office lady" was probably just being friendly and doing her job at this point, but I still think about her sometimes. Riding bikes in the back alleys of Burgoon, playing games across the backyard fence with Drake and Autumn, watching the garbage truck come to get our trash on Tuesdays, playing "lost kids" and eating weed soup, and going down to the post office to get the mail. That was my childhood. Those are some of my favorite memories growing up and I'm so happy that the "post office lady was working there when I was a kid. Without her I might not be so fascinated by pen pals!