August 7th, 2012

old gm building


Although the mail going to Wabash should now be forwarded to Bagley, I walked down to Wabash yesterday to pick up anything that the post office might have missed. Mindy was out on her porch just as I had feared.

"Hi Paaaaaaul!"

"Hello. Just checking the mail." The mailbox was empty.

"It's okay I got your mail!"

"Oh. ... Can I have it? Hey, by the way, someone opened up one of Anny's birthday cards."

"I open them all up!"


"Gotta get 'em paid!"

"Gotta get what paid?"

"Your bills! Don't worry Paul, I already paid all your bills for you! I won four million dollars in the lottery yesterday!"

"... Can I have my mail please?"

"Sure! It's inside!"

Mindy disappeared into her house, where I didn't dare follow her. She returned a moment later and handed me a stack of 20-30 sheets of filthy, stained paper filled with Spanish handwritten text.

"This isn't my mail."

"But this is more important!"

"Do you really have my mail, or were you just joking?"

"I have it!"

"Can I please have my mail?"

"Hold on, let me look for it!"

Once again Mindy went into her house. The homeless men on her porch gave each other a "there she goes again" look. I set the mysterious manuscript on her porch and put a broken piece of porch railing on top of it.

After a brief search, Mindy emerged with a water-stained calendar, a few scraps of paper, and about a dozen or so cards containing various depictions of Jesus Christ. In Mindy's mind, this is what "mail" looks like.

"Here you go!!"

She handed me the items and held open a plastic shopping bag. I placed them inside and turned around to leave.

"Hey! Don't forget your things!"

"No thanks. I'm going to go now," I said as I walked away.

"I love you Paaaaaul!"