My Mother, The Postmaster
This weekend I attended a luncheon to officially recognize and celebrate her retirement from the United States Postal Service after 32 years of hard work and diligent service. Beginning her career as a mail clerk and working her way up the ranks managing several offices and positions along the way, she eventually hung up her hat and retired as the Post Master of the same post office in Colbert, Georgia that both my Grandfather and Great-Grandfather retired from as well.
I’m so proud of my momma. This weekend I got to attend a luncheon to officially recognize and celebrate her retirement from the United States Postal Service after 32 years of unmatched hard work and diligent service. Beginning her career as a mail clerk and working her way up the ranks managing several offices and positions along the way, she eventually hung up her hat and retired as the Post Master of the same post office in Colbert, Georgia that both my Grandfather and Great-Grandfather retired from as well.
This woman epitomizes so many things to me. As a single parent with more faith, character, work ethic, savviness and resilience than anyone I’ve ever seen or known, she has had the single greatest impact on my becoming the man I am today. Teaching me about life and work in her role as a loving parent (which I know I’m fortunate to have as is), but also intrinsically as a model employer to those she oversaw, servant to those in need and overall saint of a human being in general.
Maybe it’s from growing up the only girl amongst her three brothers or simply raising two bull-headed boys, but she somehow mastered the art of being both tough as nails and as soft as snow. Equal parts MacGyver and Mother Theresa, one minute she could be a quiet observer, telling well timed jokes or praying for someone and the next she’s commanding an entire room like it’s Independence Day, creatively finding the solution to any situation with nothing more than a unwound paper clip and a fresh stamp.
In fact, growing up in the post office and watching her in that element, I always thought she was super human. Flinging letters like ninja stars into small, uniquely marked boxes with the speed of and accuracy of an F-series fighter pilot. And somehow magically knowing the names, addresses, family members, occupations and life stories of every single customer that walked through her door. She’s rescued mail carriers from gruesome dog bites, hand delivered packages that got lost or left behind to people located hours away, and even saved little old ladies from a “Nigerian Prince” that was somehow always in need of a few thousand dollars in order to inherit his fortunes.
She sacrificed personal time on mornings, nights, weekends, holidays, etc. to make sure her people got their packages… but never at the expense of being there for my brother and I, or giving us the best life we could have ever had.
We’ve often joked about how she has slowly turned into her parents over time worrying about me, and how I would inevitably turn into her as well.
But the truth is, it would be an absolute honor to become even 1/4 of the person my mother is.
I’m beyond proud of what she has accomplished, and if they were around I know my Grandma, Grandpa and Great Grandpa would be as well.
“Neither rain, nor sleet, nor dark or night shall stay these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”
Congratulations, mom! Your appointed rounds are complete. The only mail you have to worry about getting delivered now is that retirement check.