Fools like me are to blame for most things

I was standing in line at the post office the other day when the man in front of me began hollering about the imminent Communist takeover of Alaska. I hadn’t yet read the newspaper on that particular morning, so I wondered aloud if I should go home and hide my collection of Ronald Reagan biographies.

His gaze was intense and his tone was threatening, which frightened me a little, as violence is unfortunately not unheard of in these hallowed lobbies. I gathered from our conversation that the massing Communists had not been actually observed, but he assured me that the threat was real and that fools like me were mostly to blame. While I agree fools like me are to blame for most things, I didn’t see the direct connection between this hypothesized event and my obedience to social norms while standing in line in a public building. Nor have I encountered a Communist for many years, and even then his qualifications were suspect, as I think they had more to do with his affinity for drum circles than actually working to overturn our economic system.

Once the militant capitalist in front of me had politely concluded his transaction with a bearded civil servant, I made my way to the counter, tentatively keeping my distance in case my new friend had erroneously mistaken me for a North Korean. I dropped my package on the counter, and with just a few words and a few dollars, I was relieved to know that my burden was now on someone else — my package was in capable hands and would arrive intact in under a week at a house thousands of miles away.

That is an amazing feat when you bother to think about it.

For a few years I lived in a beautiful country just south of the border that had many fantastic things going for it — like ridiculously good food and friendly people and some amazing mountains and literally piles and piles of butterflies. However, a functioning post office was not something the country could boast and I missed it dearly. It is a discombobulating experience to take something for granted all your life and then wake up one morning and it is gone, sort of like when they got rid of Crystal Pepsi, only not quite as dire.

So there I was in Mexico with no real post office. Strictly speaking, there is a post office, but my Mexican friends were quick to point out that you shouldn’t actually send anything via the post, as it is very expensive and very unreliable, a perplexing combination, really. I found that removing the post office does more than just hinder your ability to send or receive mail. Eliminating this tenet of civilization erodes the innate trust you are willing to place in other bodies and makes you realize just how much we rely on other individuals and organizations without ever really questioning it. It makes you a little paranoid to conduct banking, or order pizza, or go online. I guess Joni Mitchell was right, you really don’t know what you got until it’s gone.

I read an article awhile back that put the blame for the U.S. Postal Service’s seemingly terrific ability to lose money on the fact that the U.S. Congress requires it to pre-fund its employee’s health care benefits for the next 50 years — a requirement that no other governmental agency or private company has to manage. Knowing Congress’ ability to make the simple absurd, this certainly seems very possible and, from my vantage point, more than slightly nefarious.

Our Postal Service is great. There are branches nearly everywhere, and despite the grumbling that accompanies every rate increase, it really is a deal to be able send a piece of paper anywhere in the country for 46 cents. Christmas cards, wedding invitations, tax forms, bills, annoying ads — the Postal Service does not discriminate in what it piles into your mailbox and its reliability and affordability enhance the freedom that each of us enjoy. It is a central pillar in our democracy.

So let’s celebrate the fact that despite all our problems, we have managed to sustain a functional U.S. Postal Service. And please, go enjoy it before the Communists take it away.

Pete LaFrance grew up in Palmer and has moved back to the area after a number of years living abroad.