The Mailman

If you are a senior you probably remember when we looked forward to his/her arrival because of the expectation of a personal letter, a postcard, an invitation to a party. Today, I remarked to my wife that since I started counting pieces of mail in our mailbox soliciting for one cause or another, that seven was the most. Today it hit ten. Once you've donated, you're not forgotten. You may have experienced more or less but most of you know what I am talking about. The mail today involved petitions, long letters of information (eight pages today plus brochures with more than that), impassioned pleas for money for [urgent] causes.

These causes are usually good, decent, legitimate concerns involving religion, humanitarianism, politics, veterans, surveys . . . Many are urgent, passionate pleas or demands for supporting a desperate, needy cause. Today's mail was no exception. All ten I would classify as good, legitimate, needy causes including one to invest quickly or . . .

They primarily requested a generous but not always a modest sum. The least amount suggested was $10 and if I remember, the highest was $1,000 or more. Sometimes the total amount was needed immediately. Or implied. Then, it becomes more and more clear that if I did contribute once, I could count on a steady stream of requests. Without this kind of mail, our mailbox would be quite sparse most of the time thanks to email, phones of every description, advertising, texting and facebooking. Who needs snail mail nowadays?

Seniors with a sense of compassion, tender hearts and a fixed income are discombobulated (yes, that is a word) which is understandable. We want to give, giving is a virtue; the mangled veteran and the hungry child all tug at the heart, soul and mind. Only the callous simply throw every request into the trash. On the other hand, there are fixed limits. Suppose we limit our contributions to only those best suited to our inclinations as well as our means. How do we do that? Do we rob Peter to pay Paul? Tough question.

Enough rambling. I hear you! Maybe we can end this chit chat with one admonition: use discretion (power to decide responsibly with wise self-restraint).