Our mail carrier's name is Juan. Eight years ago, when I was pregnant with Murderchild, on more than one occasion Juan arrived with the mail just after I got home with groceries, & he insisted on carrying the groceries up the front steps for me every time. #USPS

Every time I ran into him in person after that, he'd ask after Murderchild (by name, not "Murderchild"). For her 5th birthday, he brought her a present. Didn't deliver one, I mean, BROUGHT her a present FROM HIMSELF, on her birthday. It was a robotic Tyrannosaurus rex. #USPS

He'd stop to chat with our housebound neighbor across the street. When he was absent for a few months last year because of knee surgery, we worried about him, & when he came back my husband or I would go to the end of our driveway to meet him & save him the walk. #USPS

Talking about him in the past tense like this implies some ill fate has befallen Juan, but it isn't so; he's fine & walking his rounds again & waving at MC & we're always glad to see him. When I think of the #USPS, I think of Juan. Or of the ladies at our main branch P.O. who

called me at 7 A.M. to tell me when our new chicks had arrived & shared my glee, & who know to tell me things like when there are new dog stamps coming out soon (relevant to Murderchild's interests). The #USPS is part of our communities.