Box 92 was our portal to the outside world.

I was fascinated with what I could do through the mail.

They were the days of the Penny Postcard and the thrill of receiving mail, addressed to me.

My aunt Voe was the postmaster at Palouse. She always greeted me when I came in. Actually, I think she greeted everyone. There were not many secrets back then. It was like the phones and the party lines. Everyone knew other peoples’ business, but who really cared.

It was the days when people could collect, over time, dishes until they had a set. A real Depression days phenomenon. Manufacturers would put dishes in cereal boxes and in soap boxes. People would collect them and suppliers would put pictures of the dishes on the box so you knew what you were getting. Later, much later, these dishes became collectable. We have lived in strange and wonderful days.

In the spring, the post office would be full of boxes of baby chicks. The noise would drown out all other noise.

I don’t know how my aunt put up with it.

As kids, we used the post office a lot. You could buy a postcard for a penny, and communicate with someone a world away.

Two of my buddies, Bill Lazelle and Lotus Dean Throop, would write notes to each other, sometimes including hand drawn pictures.

Then we would really enjoy getting the mail.

You could also send away for a lot of stuff. There was one company that upon request would send a collection of bird pictures with information about the birds. All they needed was a request on a penny postcard. I had a couple of these in my things, but my mom got rid of a lot of my kid things after I left home. She didn’t collect things, not even dust. She was a clean freak.

I remember you could send away for a Little Orphan Annie’s detective kit. They would send a spy glass and some clue cards. Box 92 was always the receptacle for strange and wondrous things.

The comics always had things you could send for, and we did.

The mail fascination has never left me. I appreciate the hard work of our mail clerks. One year while living in Othello, I hired on for a month as a holiday clerk. I have never worked so hard. That was in the ’60s. Imagine how much harder those jobs are now. We have the best post office clerks of anywhere, always smiling and helpful.

While in college, I stumbled upon a pile of boxes with a “free” sign on them. They included a pile of letters to a couple in Caldwell, Idaho, who came to Idaho when it was still only a territory. Idaho became a state in 1890.

The envelopes had dated stamps on them. In the pile of paper in the boxes, I came across a land deed signed by President Abraham Lincoln, which I returned to the owners.

The envelopes with the old stamps on them I have framed.

I had a friend, Frosty Fowler, who sent requests to every president asking for a signed picture, and he had several. I doubt if that type of request would be filled in our present day.

So, give our postal clerks a break. They handle millions of pieces of mail a year.

I still have samples of the Penny Postcards. To think that you could once send a greeting or request across the country for a single cent.