The United States Postal Service has always been a part of my life. My dad was a mailman, a postman, a letter carrier before I was born. He retired after 30 years of service. Dad worked at the Jensen Drive station for much of his career, delivering mail to the Fifth Ward community. People on his routes knew him as “Checko.” We used to meet him on his routes sometimes and I would see people waving at him and greeting him with smiles. He lived in the community before and after he retired. There was no doubt in my mind, everyone in Fifth Ward knew “Checko.” When I was young, I would visit my dad on weekends and I felt a special pride when we would be riding through the neighborhood, windows rolled down and him throwing up his hands at what seemed like every person we came across. He would yell out the window “hey, hey, whatcha say” and of course when we’d stop at any convenience or grocery store, everyone greeted “Checko” and we would spend an extra 20 minutes at the checkout counter just talking. He was like a celebrity.

Before the big machines, the mail sorters, were a thing, I remember my dad getting up early to get to the station to sort mail. I remember him being nervous at the talk of the sorters coming to the station because he was worried about the machines replacing people. In the end, I think he came to appreciate the efficiency and realized he could get out on his routes earlier to beat the heat, but no matter the weather, my dad showed up. He took to heart the unofficial motto of the USPS, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds”

Dad  seemed to stand taller and walk prouder when he put on his crisp clean uniform. He was proud of that standing eagle logo but he never really took to the “new”sonic logo, the one we see today. He still called it the “new” logo almost twenty years later even though it changed over in 1993.

He was so excited when he changed over from the mail jeep to the mail truck. I thought those trucks were so cool, even now, whenever I see a mail truck, just like when I see a cardinal, I think of my dad. I always wave at my letter carrier, actually, at every one of them, no matter in my neighborhood or not. I feel a sort of reverence to the USPS. If I can ship via USPS I will. Dad always gave a side-eye to the competition of that other company driving those brown trucks. Anytime dad knew someone was looking for a job, he would tell them to go downtown to take the civil service test and get into the USPS. He knew the benefits of working for USPS. We benefited from the stability of the federal job, watching the pride and loyalty he demonstrated for his work and his colleagues had a profound impact on me.

Dad moved to the Holcombe station in the Medical Center, a few years before he retired. He said his legs were getting tired and the heat was getting too much for him on the streets of his beloved Fifth Ward. He found himself no longer driving and waving at people, but instead, he was hitting up hospitals and high rises and getting to know a whole new group of colleagues and routes. No more dog bites or overheating, but he did miss the people. Nothing would stop my dad from meeting new people, so he would chat up all the fancy business owners in the Medical Center and made a whole new community.

My mom used to tell me about how important it is to keep work commitments and she would remind me how when for “some reason” (I didn’t ask questions) when my dad couldn’t drive, she would drive his route for him so he could keep his job and meet his work commitments. She would drive and he would get out and deliver the mail while I was laid inside one of the mail bins next to her. I was their little letter carrier. How could I not hold a special place in my heart for the USPS.

Before all the daily news reporting of the attempted dismantling of the USPS, I would smile when I saw mail trucks in person or on TV because they remind me of dad. Now, those same images bring a sadness, a heaviness because I can only imagine what my dad, a lifelong letter carrier would think about this assault on the USPS and the burden it’s placing on letter carriers. I am glad he is not here to see the attempts to use the USPS to suppress our voting rights, although I think he would have appreciated hearing all the voices who are speaking up to protect our beloved USPS.