Why Don't You Write Me Anymore?

The world is changing, readers, whether we're in on the changes or playing possum. In my idle moments, I've been thinking of all the things my sons will have missed growing up in the '90s. There are niceties that have fallen from grace, having been replaced by modern contrivances: from letter writing to emails, for example. If you remember receiving love letters, you are probably my age, which is ancient.

Any kind of letter, be it from one's BFF who was a chambermaid in OC for the summer, or a lengthy tome from a brother in the Peace Corps, was pounced on eagerly, read and reread. Now, our mailboxes reflect our email boxes: Viagra come-ons, roofing offers and loads of bills. There is absolutely nothing to look forward to in our mailboxes anymore—unless one is entitled to a rebate check (usually $2 or $3) or a refund from the IRS (usually $2 or $3).

The United States Postal Service, teetering on the edge of a financial black hole, would love to see a return to communications that involve postage stamps and their particular conduit. The postmaster general is coming up with all kinds of creative solutions to boost mail delivery—after having lost $16 billion last year—totally ignoring the fact that people want instant communication now. They want text messaging, movies on demand and TV shows streamed directly to their smartphone 5 minutes ago.

So, in order to help my postmaster general, I've embarked on a letter writing campaign. With a roll of stamps and some fountain pens, an elegant bottle of indigo ink and some lush vellum note cards, I've started to make what I hope are NOT one-way connections with some people in the news. I'd like to share them with you. Let's start with the postmaster himself.

"Dear Postmaster General Patrick Donahoe, Your recent proposal to add alcohol delivery to the roster of services the USPS provides is one of those forward-thinking ideas our leaders so desperately need. I mean, who wouldn't rather schlep to one's mailbox for a bottle of pinot grigio than flail with the weekend masses at Wegmans? Yes, it's flattering that they card me every time I buy something alcoholic, but the crowds are a bit much. I can imagine, after a long, difficult day at work, opening my mailbox and finding a finely aged scotch residing there. Or, after mowing the lawn on a Saturday, opening a mailbox filled with iced longnecks, waiting to be cracked open and enjoyed on the front stoop! Sorry, I forgot you're hoping to eliminate Saturday deliveries altogether. Your statement that 'there's a lot of money to be made in shipping beer, wine and spirits and we'd like to be in that business' is truly inspiring. Good luck with that. In the meantime, there are several liquor stores in Maple Shade that deliver."

Some of my letters are succinct and right to the point:

"Dear Vladimir Putin, Please keep your shirt on. Nobody wants to see a middle-aged man going shirtless at any time. It's hard enough to take in this sight on the beach, so unless you look ab-fabulous and as hairless as a hard-boiled egg, stick with the epaulets and festive military hats."

"Dear mattress stores, How do you stay in business? Your stores are always totally devoid of customers, your showrooms see-through and empty except for row upon row of mattresses. On Kings Highway, near Ponzio's, there's a Sleepy's on either side of the four-lane road. Come on! Have we become that lazy that we can't cross lanes for a new sleep system?"

"Dear Presidents-for-Life Mishler and Trapani, In the words of the late Rodney King, 'Can't we all just get along?' Time for a regime change, youse guys. You've been in power for so long you've forgotten how to be effective and, most importantly, you've forgotten the importance of compromise. Obtuse or strident, unbending or shrill, it's time to move on and give someone else a chance."

"Dear Former Representative Weiner, Way to live up to your name, dude! Maybe there are some idiot Democrats out there willing to vote for a man who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to send photos of his, um, house member, but I would not be one of them. I agree the name Mayor Carlos Danger has a nice ring to it, but only if you're running for mayor of Legoland. Find a life coach and move on, but please stay out of Moorestown."

"Dear TSA, I understand that misconduct by your employees is on the rise, and am wondering how to apply for a position. I would be very good at napping on the job, intimidating passengers and stealing laptops. Also, I would look very threatening in one of your uniforms. I love the fact that the general public has no recourse when, say, an electric piano gets broken after being hurled into a heap of other clearly-marked FRAGILE baggage. TSA's fault? Good luck getting recompense, dear passenger. Nine-iron missing from your golf bag? Not our problem."

I would encourage all Mo'towners to join my letter-writing campaign, if for no other reason than to give our government a much-needed financial boost. Every "Forever" stamp you adhere to an envelope and send out into the world is another way you become part of the solution. If we all do our part, perhaps we'll open our mailboxes on a weekday to the joy of a woodsy flask o' bourbon nestled amongst the circulars.