I love letters. I love sending letters, I love getting letters. Everything about mail is great, the stamps, the envelopes, the stationary, even the uncertainty of when a letter will come. For the past year and a half (or so) I have been so happy to have good friends on missions. Because of their missions I have had a good reason to send mail and the upside to that is getting mail in return. I actually dread the day when they come home, because then who will I write? Maybe I will just have to keep sending missionaries out...I wonder how long that can last...Hmmm...I may or may not have creeped myself out.
The real reason for this post: I am grateful for letters. I will forever salute the man who invented mail. Whoever he was.
The person who invented mail was Mr. Man, Mail Man. Mr. Man was always writing love letters on bark and personally taking them to his beloved when one day he was very ill so he paid a small child to deliver his love note to his beloved. The delivery by the small child worked out so great that Mr. Man decided it was much easier to have someone else take his letters for him. This idea spurred the production of a mailing service where small child delivered mail to all the beloveds around the world and the rest is history. The END! (This story is fictitious. The retelling of this story as fact will result in people thinking you are a moron)
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