36. Dear Postal Worker – Hugh & Emerson Weber
I’m not sharing this because I’m a proud dad. I’m sharing it because it is relatively easy, if we take the time, to give others the one thing they need to be well—human connection.
Emerson, my 11-year-old, has a serious letter-writing habit. She maintains an active correspondence with over a dozen of her favorite people. And, if you’ve been the lucky recipient of one of Em’s hand-decorated letters and envelopes, then you have a pretty good idea of the joy they bring. A letter from Em is likely to include some art, a joke or two, a mention of her younger brother, confessions of her love for Taylor Swift, and enough questions to guarantee a response.
So, when she decided to thank our mail carrier for the service he provides us, she left nothing out. In went Taylor Swift, in went the little brother, in went the jokes.
Q: Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?
A: Because they’re really good at it.
“I’m Emerson,” she opened. “You may know me as the person that lives here that writes a lot of letters & decorated the envelopes. Well, I wanted to thank you for taking my letters and delivering them. You are very important to me. I make people happy with my letters, but you do too.” She went on to explain that she didn’t have a phone, so she needed him: “How else am I supposed to stay in touch with my friends? You make it possible!”
She put it in the box, smiled when he took it and that was enough. The next day a package arrived with some stamps and two letters. Doug, our mail carrier, had shared Em’s letter with his supervisor, Sara, and they both wanted to share how touched they were by her note. Sara said that, as an essential worker, Doug might not be able to maintain regular correspondence, but she sure could. Em started writing that very afternoon.
The next week, we got a letter addressed to “Mr. and Mrs. Weber.” Sara had shared Em’s note as a “Token of Thanks” in the internal newsletter for the Western U.S. The next day, we saw Doug getting out of the truck with two BOXES of letters from postal workers around the country.
These letters are so deeply human. They are filled with family, pets, hobbies, community, and an overwhelming sense of kindness. Because Em was fully vulnerable, they were too. Em shared jokes, so they shared jokes. Em shared Taylor Swift and it turns out that the U.S. Postal Service is filled with lots of undercover Swifties. Em shared her brother, so every gift that was sent came in duplicate.
They also sent stamps—for collecting, for writing back, for her to write to others. Stamps, stamps, stamps. (218 by Em’s count.) But, there was something more in these letters. People felt seen—some for the first time in a long time.
“I work alone in a small rural post office...”
“My kids all live far away...”
“Not a lot of people think about how hard we work...”
One wrote, “I can’t tell you how much it means to read your letter...” Another, “I have a son in Kuwait and if you have a second to send him a letter, he would love it.” And another, “I know you can’t write back to all of us, but maybe I can drop you a line from time to time?”
With dozens of new pen pals, Em did what she does best.
She wrote the dad.
She wrote his son.
She assured the secret Swifties not to be embarrassed because her dad likes TSwift, too.
She acknowledged that there WERE a lot of letters but that she had time.
She sees them all.
I’m not sharing this because I’m a proud dad. I’m sharing it because it is relatively easy, if we take the time, to give others the one thing they need to be well—human connection. I have a friend that says we all just want to be seen, known, and loved.
Em does this boldly.
– Hugh & Emerson Weber
