Mail, mortality and American mettle
by Brian Kass ’85

n the early ’80s when I was attending Glassboro State, the break-up of AT&T was in full swing. Everyone was complaining how the situation was screwing up phone service. One of my communications professors, Mike Donovan, said the real surprise is that the phone works at all! You pick up the phone, punch some buttons, and it causes another phone to ring hundreds or thousands of miles away. Then you talk to someone as if they were sitting across the room from you. It’s easy to forget how miraculous the process really is.

   It’s the same with mail service. Throw a stamp on an envelope, and for the cost of your pocket change, the contents of that envelope travel to all parts of the globe. That’s just one of the six hundred million pieces of mail the United States Postal Service delivers daily. I’ve become very familiar with the process because, since taking a break from teaching, I’ve served as a letter carrier.

   Unfortunately, someone (or some group) feels this reliable service is a good way to kill people and frighten anyone who dares send a letter or receive a package. Suddenly, we’re on the front lines of a terrorist conflict. Everyone faces his or her own mortality at some point, but despite the relatively slim odds of getting anthrax through the mail, many people are considering the end of life en masse. As another of my professors, James Haba, would say, that’s a really scary place to be. His literature classes were equal parts text study and philosophy, including the nature of life and death in many cultures. It spurred me to reflect about how I would choose to live my life in the face of a terminal situation. That’s not something many 19-year-olds do, but my GSC experience helped me form opinions that have stood me in good stead two decades later.

   I don’t believe that life and death are pre-determined; that your number “comes up” like those slips of paper at the supermarket deli counter and—BANG!—you’re done. Of course, I will die someday. Yet deep inside is a determination to live life fully and completely with as little regret as possible. If you live 110 years in fear, that’s 110 years wasted. My time on this earth is too precious to spend waiting for the next catastrophe or tragic accident to befall me. At that point I’m essentially a dead man walking. Besides, you’re counting on me to get your mail to you…a formerly simple process you once took for granted.

   OK, delivering mail during the war on terrorism isn’t especially courageous compared to firefighters and cops who rushed into the World Trade Center or soldiers in Afghanistan, but keeping the mail moving is an important component in America’s economic and emotional recovery. Working at your job, raising your kids and buying stuff at the store all have their place in the complex web which our country’s prosperity and well-being rest upon, too.

   So do me a favor. If your work brings you through Chatham and we see each other, throw me a wave or even a smile and I’ll gladly do the same back. Then together, we move on, one day at a time. It’s the toughest times that reveal a person’s true character. Let’s see what we’re made of.

______________________
Brian Kass ‘85 has been a letter carrier for three years. He lives in Springfield and loves receiving mail, especially from friends. Write to him care of the Chatham Post Office, Chatham, NJ 07928.