Category: Postman

Early morning routine of linguistics studies

I’m not entirely sure if it’s ironic or just hypocrisy, but I’ve always loved linguistics while dreading any language class during my school years.

Granted, it’s been nearly 20 years since I was a student, but I do remember those attempts at learning French and Spanish in high school. They were definitely “attempts”, because I failed those classes with abysmally poor grades.

But I still wanted to learn, and I had a writing nerds’ motivation to learn: I had finished reading Lord of The Rings in my sophomore year and obsessed over the language sections in the back of those books.

Since those stories have been put in my head, I’ve wanted to try learning a language or putting some semblance of a language into one of my stories. To my teenaged mind, that looked cool and I wanted to do it, too.

(Safe to say that I didn’t have much experience with the other trials of teenaged life back then. While everyone else was starting to go to parties, I was the nerd who wrote D&D campaigns in class. Shocking, I know.)

Since those days, I made multiple attempts at linguistic studies, only to fail repeatedly. At some point I gave up the pursuit and told myself that I simply did not have the aptitude for learning other languages. In some areas of the US, people would doubt that I spoke American English, since my Louisiana accent would come out and throw them off. This was proven true to me when I was staying in California. Fun times that, explaining dialect and regional accents to folks who thought I couldn’t read because I sounded (to them) like a redneck. That was an isolated incident and otherwise my stay in California was very pleasant, in case any of my readers are from that way. Just to clear the air.

Nowadays, I’ve become a dedicated student of Duolingo, which apparently is way more my speed. It may seem like shilling for an app, but I am honestly very happy with their program for learning languages.

I’m doing the thing! Progress!

Once a day, right before the shift starts, I go through the lessons and try my best. I know it’s slow going, but I’ve learned more in the past few months than I ever did in a formal setting. That might just be an indicator that I was a bad student, I’ll admit. My later attempts at college are strong backers of that theory.

With that, morning break is over and I’m off to the mail route. Happy reading, folks.

-JB Swift

Cat on the route! (From yesterday)

I’m never sure if the cats on my route are someone’s pets or just strays that have a section of territory. Not many have collars (I think I’ve only seen one collared cat) and my customers rarely interact with them.

But everyone leaves food out for them, so they have claims on the neighborhood. This one in particular is friendly enough, and she lets me pet her when she’s in a good mood. Otherwise, she just sits there while I sort letters.

No idea what her real name is, but I call her Socks when she shows up.

Dog on the route!

Death from the ankles down! At least, he tries to be. This is Jordan and he is a Mini French Bulldog. He’s about the size of a Jordan, too. He was so excited for pets that he tried to gnaw on my fingers.

Either that or he’s so full of hatred for the mailman that he was trying to kill me and forgot he’s a tiny French bulldog. Either way, he’s adorable.

Dog on the route!

Possibly my favorite mail-route dog. Drake is getting up there in years, but I can rely on him to be at his gate, barking loudly to announce his presence and demands for pets.

He’s also my go-to for training new postmen on how to interact with large, loud dogs. He’s intimidating enough to new folks that they’ll be surprised, but friendly enough to let them approach the house and practice the “levels of conflict” without risk of escalating threat.

Sidenote: I’ll eventually write up a “Postal Living” essay on how we deal with aggressive dogs or other animals. But for now, enjoy the photo.

(Also, always make sure you have the animal owners’ permission before you take the photo. My customers have known me for years and years, so they usually do say yes, but never assume you have their permission. Ask first.)

-JB Swift

Long shifts, Writing updates, and Daughters’ practice

I think the word for this week is going to be “ambitious”. I would not be surprised if by Saturday, I’ll be in bed and unconscious before the sun has fully set.

But I can’t say I didn’t see it coming or didn’t accept that it’d be a hectic week. It’s Spring Break week, and that means fewer coworkers (so more work for me and everyone else unable to get the week off) as well as time off for the kids from school. Just yesterday, I pulled a 12-hour shift and somehow stayed awake long enough to prep a quick meal for the next shift.

This doesn’t mean I can’t put in the effort needed to make the week worthwhile. For myself, I still need to get the next chapters for the Sidewinder story written and posted (Chapter 5 went up yesterday, so go read!) before Saturday. That’s my personal challenge.

But it’s also a big week for Hannah! The 5yr old is testing for her first sash (white) in Kung Fu this week! She’s been practicing, but like any perfectionist, she’s not sure if she’s ready. She is; she just doesn’t accept it for herself yet. Hopefully, she’ll remember what I’ve been telling her since she’s started trying out new hobbies: we don’t ask for her to be perfect, just that she puts in the effort and try her best.

With that, break time is over and it’s back to sorting mail and thinking over plots. Enjoy the day, readers.

-JB Swift

PS~ Just realized that while the chapter was uploaded (correctly, this time!) and is available for reading, it didn’t send out a notice that it had done so. So if you’re looking for it, here’s a link:

https://swiftscorner.wordpress.com/sidewinder-adv-1-chp-5/

Postal Living: Adapting with Rubber Bands

*cackling with mad-scientist-MacGyver glee*

Finally, I can get this thing to stay in place long enough to get a charge. The cord snapped a while back, and it’s an older model, so battery life isn’t something to boast about. But there are rubber bands aplenty, so it’s an easy fix.

It’s the little victories throughout the day.

There go another pair of postal shoes

I know. I’m rough on footwear. It happens after 12 mile walks, 6 days a week, for a dozen years.

Hopefully they’ll last the rest of the day until I can stop somewhere for a basic replacement pair. I have to admit, though, that these lasted the longest of any pair I’ve owned (8 months) so I’ll be remembering the brand for if I can find them again.

And with the break over, it’s time to walk the mail out. Take care, readers.

-JB Swift

The End of the Postal Chucks

*Sigh*

It looks like my “postal chucks”, my backup shoes for when I wear my heavier rain gear (including goulashes) have finally worn themselves out beyond practicality. On a day with heavy rain promised, too. There’s an annoyance for you.

So, today is going to suck. I’ll get home, drenched and tired, wanting a shower and bed. Tomorrow will hopefully brighten up, if not in the weather than in my disposition, as I have a second pair awaiting use.

Off to face the day.

-JB Swift

Postal Life: How Fast Can the Middle-aged Mailman Walk?

They say it’s a good thing to give yourself fresh challenges as you get older. Personally, I thought getting through my 20s while staying marginally sane (and marginal is optimistic) was an accomplishment, but there will always be something new on the horizon to attempt.

Such as getting my walking route done in under 7 hours when it averages out to about 10.

The reason is simple: My family needs me. The kids need to be picked up and there isn’t a bus route from their schools to our home in the country. When we go down the list of who can handle that task, I’m the last one for obvious reasons. But I will never let it be said that I don’t put my family first before everything. If my wife and children need me, I’ll be there.

This’ll mean walking (not running, that’s a safety concern in the Post Office) an average of 15-18 minute miles. Possible? Yes. Most likely to make my legs cramp while I sleep tonight? Also yes.

There might not be any route pictures, for those of you who’ve liked my small moments of photography. But if I spot something worth noting, I’ll do my best.

Where the Witch’s House Stood

When I was around 12 or 13 years old, I would explore the neighborhoods around my home, either on foot or by bike. There was shortcut road I liked to use to visit one of my friends that was heavily forested on one side. I always saw it as just undeveloped land left alone in a small neighborhood.

Except for one house, almost hidden behind a veil of trees. This was a very simple wooden house, although it conformed to Southern desires and had a giant front porch.

This was where the Witch lived.

My friends from the neighborhood never looked at the house or acknowledged its existence. To them, it was part of the scenery. For my teenage brain, it was something to explore.

The property was absolutely covered in vine growth, with small patches of the wooden structure jutting out to remind you that yes, it was a building. The “yard”, such as it was, was a patch of dark soil with tree stumps cut down for sitting.

Being the youth whose manners were beaten into him by nuns in a 1990’s Catholic school, I knocked on the door of what I was assuming to be an abandoned house. An old lady answered the door.

She was old, much older than I could really guess at. But she was active, bustling around her house, which for all the exterior appearance, was remarkably clean. She offered me a cup of tea and asked what I was doing there. I told her the truth, that I was exploring and wanted to know what the place was about.

She explained that she was a witch and a historian. She pointed out the shelves and shelves and shelves of books she kept, all of them to do with the history and legends of the world. She brought one down that detailed the fables of Ireland, introducing me to the Tuath Dé (or Tuatha Dé Danaan, depending on where you read it) and Tír na nÓg. She told me about the ancient wars wrapped in those legends. She also said I should investigate those legends and see what they would tell me about myself.

After what was probably a couple hours, she told me to go on home, thanking me for the visit. I had tried to visit her a couple more times later on, but she never answered her door. A year later, the house was gone. Now, 20 years later, the lot stands vacant.

I always think of that old Witch when I drive down that street. I wonder if she enjoyed the day she could teach a young man the stories of (unbeknownst to him at the time) his ancestry. I hope she did. She had a strong influence on how I approach writing with legendary material.