I had to do this morning what I try to avoid: go to the post office. Long lines, irritable employees. But I had to pick up a new mezuzah Mr. Goon was kind enough to send to replace our stolen one. His was small enough that it could have fit in my mailbox but the postman held it back for pickup anyway at the P.O. which is miles away from the mini-rancho.
Not that I’m paranoid or anything but ISRAEL in big bold letters on the front of the mailer makes some people peevish these days. The clerk at the P.O. certainly was. Short-tempered when I had a momentary lapse in thinking (common to we seventy-five-year-olds) while trying to decipher their credit card machine to buy some stamps. While I was there, you know. Figures a fed machine would be different from all commercial ones I have seen.
But the postal fellow? He was black, middle-aged and irritable, especially after he retrieved the package (from ISRAEL) for me. Looked downright angry. Some people forget, if they ever knew, how hard the Jews worked to get African Americans their civil rights. Some even died for it.