Fan Mail ...?

Today, I went to my mail boxes to pick up my bills. It's dawned on me that all my greetings and letters from friends come electronically. In the past year I have received maybe two actual pieces of letter mail that were not about money or someone asking me for a favor. I have received all my birthday greetings and holiday cards by email for a few years. As much as I am all about the environment and being eco-responsible, There is something wonderful and exciting about getting a card or letter in the post-mail.

Many years ago, I knew a soldier. He was deployed overseas and we used to write often. I saw the movie Dear John a while ago and it brought those memories of his letters back to me. We numbered our letters too. There were times when he couldn't write as he was posted somewhere where they were doing something important and it wasn't easy to get letters out. I would keep writing and telling him stories of where I was, what part of the world I was in, what the word was on our mutual friends. He would come back from whatever scary place he was saving from the "evil doers" and have a bunk full of letters and not know which one to open first. He said it was like having a really tough work week and having Christmas waiting for him on his bunk every time he came back.
 One day his letters stopped coming, I never knew what happened to him. Trying to get information about a special forces guy and where he might be, or if he even is still breathing is like trying to make the Buckingham Palace guards laugh in London. When you are not related by blood or by marriage they don't disclose anything at all. This soldier saved my life once, many years ago, but that's a whole 'nother story. I grieved the loss and lamented that I was never able to properly thank him for his sacrifice on my behalf.

So ... at my mailboxes today, imagine my surprise to have a notice from the post office that they have a bag waiting for me. So as I'm waiting patiently at the counter for the 'postmistress' she hauls out this big ugly box stuffed to the laces with letters. From everywhere. I spent my day rifling through the most interesting looking ones and some were in languages I haven't learned yet, so I put those aside to see if they can be translated. So far, there isn't anything naughty, but there have been some questionable suggestions.

I wasn't sure why all the fan mail but it was forwarded from a private publication I submitted my work to overseas. Apparently their readers liked my work and now I have international fans.
It was like Christmas all over again. People say some really nice things when they appreciate your work.
Although I am a photographer and most people never see my face, only my work and my photo credits, so the letters are the only way they can contact me. I am not easy to find, according to those that have tried. I took them to the studio of one of my colleagues for some tea and a discussion about what to do with it all. Do I answer them? After looking at the majority of them, they are not asking a lot of questions, just expressing their thoughts on my work.

This brings me back to my soldier boy. Imagine a soldier's worst possible work week, what would that consist of? Could I face what they face on a daily basis? Could I give my life for another or to protect my 'brothers'?
While you're thinking of this, write a letter to a soldier in Afghanistan, and post it to the following;

Any Canadian Forces Member
Op Athena
PO Box 5058 Stn Forces
Belleville ON   K8N 5W6

It may not seem like much, but it may make the difference between a good day or a bad day in a tough work week. Just a suggestion.

Hey! Don't forget to check your compass!

Cole

Conversations with a crustacean...

I was out getting groceries today, and standing in line behind me was this attractive young couple. They had just popped in to pick up some ingredients for a fabulous cozy dinner for two. Some healthy choices and a couple of fresh lobsters.

The lobsters were packaged in a bag and apparently still live and squirming about. The guy was talking to the girl in this squeaky little voice that sounded remarkably what I would imagine lobsters could sound like if they spoke english. He had this poor girl in stitches laughing herself silly in the line up. Eventually the whole line up was smiling and adding their two cents worth of a lobster conversation. The one restless lobster was bargaining for his life, one minute it was suggested he would be a great pet, then he could be a great substitution for the pool boy, and finally he would walk the dog. The line was not unreasonably long, but I have a suspicion that the cashier was listening more to the group stand up routine and maybe was moving a little slower to prolong the banter.

As I drove away from the parking lot, more goofy lobster conversations went through my head and I was chuckling all the way home. I bet every one else in the line up was too. What a great way to end a cold blustery Sunday evening.

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole