One Man’s Junk Mail…

Do you remember when mail was a thrill instead of a burden? If you’re anywhere near my age, you might have to think way back.

I remember getting an absolute thrill out of walking to the end of the driveway, or even, more exciting, to the community box when we lived in an apartment. The box always held such promise. Could there be something in there for me?

Even if something wasn’t directly addressed to me, I would undoubtedly find something special in the mailbox.

To my parents, a stack of mail on the kitchen counter - catalogs, mailers, something from the insurance company - was junk. To me, it was treasure.

As young as five years old I knew what my parents considered junk mail. I would sort it out, hand it out to the interested parties, and the rest was MINE. And this mail made me much happier than my parents’ mail made them.

The credit card offers were my favorite. They always came with a fake credit card; a placeholder with a made-up account number embossed across the front in that satisfying raised lettering. I’d suddenly feel like a very important person. Into the wallet it went, right next to my library card and the occasional dollar bill I'd been trusted to carry.

And, can we talk about the gummy stuff that holds the card to the paper?! I admit it. I still play with the gummy stuff a little before it finds its way to the trash. But, as a kid, that gummy stuff was going to be hours of fun.

Then there were the return envelopes. They were pre-addressed to some billing department in Ohio, meant to carry a check back wherever the mail came from. I collected those too. I had a stack held together with a rubber band, and I treated it like currency. Because to me, a return envelope wasn't a bill-paying mechanism. It was a real envelope with a real address, ready to be licked and sealed and sent somewhere important. Sealing it felt official. It felt like something was happening.

When I think back about what made it so exciting, it was randomly getting something I could use to fuel my own imagination. As a child, that fuel went a long way. These junk mail treasures were essentially prompts for my imagination.

If you’ve got little ones, keep in mind that every trip to the mailbox can be a small (FREE) adventure. One man’s junk mail can definitely be another much younger man’s treasure.