I am a native in this world And think in it as a native thinks

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Urban poetry



Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

That isn't really the motto of the Postal Service, but it is inscribed in marble on the old main post office building on Eighth Avenue, and everyone thinks it is. I was actually disillusioned when I went through my first official blizzard in New York and learned that, heroic slogans notwithstanding, there usually isn't any mail delivery after a blizzard.

However, I've yet to see a calamity -- blizzard, hurricane, blackout, terrorist attack -- where it wasn't still possible to order in. Bills and catalogs aren't always available; Chinese food or pizza is.

And I find that quite comforting.

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