In a letter to the editor of the Topeka, Kansas,
Capital-Journal, eighty-year-old Vera Casner writes, "I hear so much about the post office going broke. I remember the mail carrier rode the bus in our area twice a day in the 1950s. He carried a big leather pouch and would deliver the mail then get back on the bus to go to the post office and return in the afternoon with more mail. At Christmas time, he delivered on Sunday, too. No one talked about how much stamps cost. They were happy to hear from loved ones in service. No one complained."
She went on to say, "When my 3 1/2-year-old daughter was dying of cancer, the mailman rang the doorbell every day to see how she was. When she passed away, he was at the funeral. I guess it’s OK to push a button and send an email, but I was happy to put a stamp on a pretty card and help some man or woman with their job."
To read the entire letter,
click here.
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