Sharon's blog: Mailboxes and small towns and daylilies

Mostly I try to find something good in every day. Some days I have to look hard for the good and for awhile I thought this day was going to be totally good-less. I've lived in this community for nearly 40 years, right here, same house, same street, same town. I taught for most of those years so I know most of the people who live here.

When my husband died suddenly just a few years ago, it was the people in the community who helped most. I'm not originally from here so there are no relatives, but the people here had become my people. Even after my husband's death, I decided to remain here, at least for awhile.

When he died, one of the things I changed was my P.O. Box. We wouldn't be getting anymore of his business mail and I was retired anyway so why drive 2 miles to the post office every day; I'd save gas and time and money if I had the mail delivered. My neighbor who lives behind me likes to tinker with wood, so he built a mailbox for me, turned it into a planter and I loved it. (It's no secret around here that I am also a gardener.)

That was in fall and I dug up a daylily or two and planted them in the base, then I added pansies for winter into the top planter, just behind the mailbox itself. The pansies bloomed all winter long. Eventually I planted other things in the top planter, and most often I had pots of things there that I changed out with the seasons. It was a pretty mailbox, very unique, and I loved it.

One day about two years ago, I was in the local grocery and a man I didn't know came in asking for Sharon Brown. Strange, I thought.

"I was putting a sealer on the driveway of your neighbor across the street; accidentally I backed into your mailbox. It's badly cracked, but here's my name and number and I'll gladly pay for damages. It was your neighbor who told me you'd be here."

"My daylilies!!! Did you hurt my daylilies?"

Well it was summer and my daylilies were in full bloom for goodness' sakes. I do have my priorities.

"M'am, I don't know about your flowers but your mailbox is hanging by splinters, it isn't on the ground."

Saved by the splinters! My daylilies didn't even lose a bud. And the neighbor across the street along with the neighbor beside me and the neighbor behind me who had built the mailbox all gathered round and repaired the hanging by a splinter mailbox. It looked like new again! The daylilies survived.  And grew. And multiplied. The pots in the top planter suffered minor damage and had to be replaced, but they weren't daylilies so I didn't really cry over them.

Which in a convoluted way brings us to today. I had to drive to Nashville to take my daughter to the airport. I really don't like driving to or through Nashville. It has more interstates intersecting than any town needs to have and you have to drive on each one to get to the airport. It's only 110 miles from here but even so, I hate to drive to Nashville.

We left about 9 this morning and my across the street neighbors (the one with the sealed driveway of 2 years ago) were having a yard sale. It was a pretty day and everybody within a hundred mile radius was parked on my street. I had to back out of my driveway an inch at a time because of all the vehicles. Yard sales are social events here. But I backed out, waved to tell them I'd be back to visit their yard sale by early afternoon and headed on out to Nashville.

The trip was no problem except I grumbled all the way home because I hate to drive to Nashville. When I arrived traffic was still backed up on my street so I had to circle the block a time or two before I could manage to get into my driveway. It's a very short street with only 4 houses on it. Too many vehicles, though, and most of them pickup trucks. Those huge pickups with too many wheels.

I visited with them for a few minutes, then came inside and to my computer to tell Dave I was ready to have the drawing for the raffle. Did that just as a hard knock sounded on my front door.

"I backed into your rotten mailbox and it broke. Here's $10."

He was huge, maybe in his 50s and I'd never seen him before.

"Excuse me," I said, "you broke my mailbox? You've got to be kidding."

"Yeah, no, I'm not kidding, you had it too close to the road and it was in my way."

"You keep your $10, but the mailbox was exactly where mailboxes are supposed to be and it wasn't rotten!" I said looking toward my beautiful mailbox that was no longer there, "but you leave your name and number and I'll let you know how much it costs to rebuild."

"No, I ain't givin' you my name and number. It was an old rotten mailbox and it was too close to the road. It was in the way of my truck. Take the $10."

I rarely ever lose control and I don't confront, but I had made that trip to Nashville and I was in no mood to be taken down by a 6'4" 300 pound Neanderthal who looked like a boulder. I stretched up as tall as I could, maybe a full 5' even; my neighbors across the street were watching.

"Did you break my daylilies, too?"

That Neanderthalic man snarled and threw a $20 bill at me, threw some words at me too, and stomped down my driveway. The earth shook he stomped so hard and I smelled burning rubber as he left. I started down the driveway toward my broken mailbox just as my across the street neighbor started toward me. Behind him came his wife and her two sisters, his niece and a cousin. They all started talking at once.

"What did he say? Who was he? Is he going to replace it?" They all asked together. All I could do was check my daylilies that grew in the planter at the base of the mailbox. I'd planted some very special dark dark burgundy daylilies there because my mailgirl loved them. I also had light corals planted with the burgundy simply because they looked so pretty together.

The mailbox was laying off to one side with its post in the middle of the daylily bed. I could still hear the women talking around me. I moved the post, couldn't see any broken stems, but I did find one little daylily bud on the ground. Amazing. My poor broken mailbox was beyond repair. I nearly cried.

"It's OK," I told the group around the mailbox and me. "The daylilies are fine. It's OK. He just broke one little bud."

Their mouths dropped open, "Daylilies? Your handmade mailbox just got smashed, broken totally, beyond repair, and we saw that man throw something at you!  You're worried about your daylilies?"

"Yeah. My daylilies are fine."  All I could do was smile. I couldn't look at the mailbox.

I finally told them what the man had said about my too close to the road rotten mailbox. I also told them the ugly words he threw at me along with the $20.

Silence. Then one of the sisters spoke:  "I've got something that might work. Roger, get your saw!"

She had a brand new mailbox, never been used, in the yard sale.

"I brought my old mailbox with me when we moved here," she said, "and my husband bought a new one. And there was one already here. We don't need three mailboxes. I want you to have this one."

Within 30 minutes that little group of people (only 2 of whom I knew) had sawed the jagged edge off what remained of the post and had placed a brand new mailbox on it. It's dark green and matches the daylily foliage perfectly.

Communities, neighbors helping neighbors. I tried to give them the $20 the man had thrown at me. I think they thought it was as dirty as the words he threw with the money. I felt that way too, but they wouldn't take the $20. They took the edge off my edgy day though. Isn't life something! I think I found the good in this very long day.

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