The Old Coot Takes the Mail for a Walk: Revisited

(Originally Published in January 2004)

By Merlin Lessler —

I took the mail for a walk the other day. I slipped three envelopes into my coat pocket and headed out the door to town. My first stop was at Awakening’s Coffeehouse. It’s a great place to start the day, to get the pulse of the village.

I wasn’t exactly asked to leave, but I could tell by the look the waitress gave me that hogging a booth for an hour while nursing a dollar’s worth of coffee was pushing my welcome to the limit, especially with a line of customers from the counter to the front door. I took the hint and moved on; the mail in my pocket was a dim memory.

I walked along Front Street past the new bridge to Dunkin’ Donuts. I wonder how many years it will be before we stop calling it the “new bridge.” I was hoping I’d bump into Bill Nolis, the owner. He’s usually all ramped up about something or other, and his enthusiasm is contagious. I needed some of it to recharge my batteries. It works even better than the caffeine that comes in his coffee.

He wasn’t around, so I picked up a large coffee to go and left. I passed by the Viet Nam Memorial in front of the courthouse like I do most mornings. Sixteen local boys lost their lives in that war. I didn’t know any of them, having grown up elsewhere, but I memorized their names a few years back. I thought it was the least I could do.

It could have been me; I had a one-A classification in the 1960’s, but lucked out and didn’t get drafted. Anyhow, I’ve come to know these guys, in a way, just by reciting their names every time I pass by, and then looking at the monument to check my memory.

Thank you: Anthony Battista Jr., Wayne Carlson, Duane Carter, Michael Chamberlain, Gary Faucett, James Nulton, Donald Penny, Merritt Murray, Anthony Revak, Duane Romeo, Donald Rummel, Donald Spicer, Gregory Stiger, John Wurtenberg, James Zimmer, and James Moore Jr.

We’ll be forever grateful for your bravery. 

I arrived home 20 minutes later with an idea to write about clinging precariously to the edge of my taxed memory system. I needed to jot it down fast, before it escaped. As I hung up my coat, I noticed the letters in my pocket. My wife yelled from the other room, “Did you mail the bills?”

“No,” I replied (out loud), and then quietly, so she couldn’t hear. “I took them for a walk instead.” 

PS – Since this article was written, Edward Boardman’s name was added to the memorial.