Haven't seen much of our mailman, being as how he's on our road pretty much at exactly the same times that I am striding through the halls at Stallworth or Vanderbilt.
Came home early during the holidays, though, and he followed me up our driveway. The dogs rushed over, and so did I, reassuring him that they were harmless. "I know, they're looking for their treats," he smiled. "Here's yours, Jack, and yours, Ollie", tossing them dog biscuits.
Dale, his name is, and he's been tending our mail for ten years, coming all the way up to the house to put packages on the back porch and spoil the dogs. He doesn't drive one of those little square mail rigs--he has an ancient something, with a fanbelt and pulley system connecting the steering wheel to a wheel on the right side--the mailman side. I don't know how the pedals are adapted. He bought the car already changed over, and I now have many unanswered questions--mileage? Does he ever unhook the pulley system and drive sitting on the left? How ARE those pedals adapted?
Kathleen heard my story and just laughed. Just last week Dale brought EricTheFarmer's packages, all properly addressed to his place down on Cleece's Ferry, and left them at Kathleen's, 6 miles up the road, telling her to tell Eric that his mailbox was full. What's a mother to do?
A peripatetic local treasure I didn't even know. Dale, this one's for you--you're too cool!