Greetings from Poosey.
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I was pink-slipped. That’s the color of card our local postmaster slips into my box when there’s a package awaiting. The Poosey post office is only slighter bigger than a jumbo postage stamp so when you step into the office you can pretty much see the whole place.
Used to be the postmaster could simply toss you your parcel, but in order to speed things up the USPS now requires that each package be scanned, adding another few seconds to the process. So while he was scanning away I noticed the small mountain of boxes awaiting pickup. Nearly every item was labeled “Amazon,” and my mind immediately zipped back to the days when I’d grab my grandmother’s coattails and go to the post office to discover what delights the morning’s post had brought.
Grandma was a catalog lady and nearly every week would bring a new delivery from either Sears Roebuck or “Monkey Ward.” Living some distance from anything resembling a department store, her house was wall-to-wall Sears-Ward. She made good use of catalogs, even with indoor plumbing and toilet paper.
Standing there in our local post office I was slammed in the face with a welcome shot of déjà vu. We’re going backwards! Amazon may not be the new Sears, but in a world where so many of us yearn for the days of yore, our wish is actually being granted.
Every other week a faded yellow truck pulls up in front of my house to deliver groceries. Great-grandma used to have her milk delivered right to her door. The only difference is that I’ve yet to hear any tales of wayward housewives bearing children who resemble the Schwan’s man.
What is the Farmers’ Market except a delightful return to the days of old when you knew the name of the fellow who grew your potatoes? It’s been generations since Americans have had such easy access to the source of their food supply. We’re hurtling backwards at a delicious rate.
And as much as I despise the way texting and the other diarrhea of electronic devices has consumed the attention of formerly sane people, at least folks are talking again. Okay, it’s not exactly as warm and inviting as a chat over the backyard fence, but folks who are less ambulatory can now log onto Facebook and view pictures of their grandkids from Milwaukee. No iPad will ever replace a front porch swing, but it’s a small stumble in the right direction.
My Uncle Fred once went shopping for a second car and although the dealer offered him a great price, he turned it down. Fred knew the guy who’d owned the car previously and wasn’t about to buy anything that fellow had owned. He said, “A man who can’t even keep his front porch painted sure can’t take care of a car.” With an Internet search we can now return to the days of yesteryear and track the auto back to its inception in Detroit or Tokyo. Retro progress!
And although we bemoan what the Big Box stores have done to the Mom & Pop operations all across the landscape, what is today’s mega-mart than a return to the general store where you could pick up everything you wanted with one parking of your car? I can well remember the Read Brothers’ Store . . . the old oiled floors, the crank cash register, cheese sold by the slab. The east room held every dry good and clothing item a farm family would need, the west room housed farm equipment, bolts, nuts, and animal feed, while the middle section of the store was a cornucopia of groceries. If Wal-Mart sold hog feed they’d be as convenient as the Read Brothers.
The hottest trend in the eating industry is “craft foods,” quality foodstuffs made in people’s homes and sold with home printed labels in the stores. Grandma’s canning is coming back! Microbreweries are the biggest thing in beer. Who’s not had an uncle who entered this business long before it was popular and perhaps even legal? And ask any college student about the current dance craze. It’s swing dancing from the forties!
Perhaps the most heartening throwback to times gone by is the fact that last year set a record for the most volunteer time put in by Americans, totally some 64 million hours, and it’s been climbing ever since the recession started.
Of course not everything has returned to more idyllic days. I still yearn for the days when you could by a nasal decongestant without submitting to an FBI background check and a full body scan, but we seem to be headed in the right direction….Backwards!
You ever ’round Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.