Morgan our mailman made his last run here in the neighborhood last Thursday. For more than 20 years he faithfully and cheerfully brought us our bills, Christmas gifts and cards, sympathy cards, sad news in handwritten letters, birth, graduation and wedding announcements, final notes with shaky handwriting from our aging parents, and more of what life delivers – all to a box on the street. In typical Morgan style, if it didn’t fit in the box, he came to the door to say hello and hand it to you personally.
It was a perfect relationship – the friendly, yet professional and unobtrusive Morgan and a unique neighborhood where people care about each other. We know when to pitch in and watch out for each others’ children. We shared the joy when Morgan ran the Marine Corps Marathon, when his daughter graduated from college, and when his grandchild was born.
Morgan was part of our village. He was there when our babies were born, when they went to college, and when some got married. He knew their names and patiently handed little ones the mail as their parents looked on. He knew when Bill was deployed to Afghanistan and asked about him when he delivered his letters.
We had something special here folks, something you don’t seem to get anymore. When the children in this neighborhood move away and have their own families, Morgan the Mailman will be in the conversation.
Photos by Eileen Lee Willard (top), Melanie Poirier (middle) and Marion Devlin (bottom).