Community | Enchanted Seashells

In the midst of this dystopian hellscape in which we’re enmired, something beautiful happened in my little beachy town, a glimmer of hope that humanity is not completely dead.

A hundred or so of our neighbors showed up to celebrate the retirement of everyone’s favorite mail carrier.

When news spread throughout his neighborhood routes that our special and beloved mailman was retiring after forty-two years, a plan was formed to host a potluck in his honor at our local park.

This guy has been more than someone who simply delivers our mail; he’s become one of the family. There are few people who have an inner light that shines brightly. We all have been touched by his many kindnesses and we wanted to return the love, not that we haven’t gifted him with things over the years, but this needed to be a spectacular celebration, a send-off he’d remember.

Families from all of his routes showed up with food, decorations, and gifts. People we’ve said hi to for decades now had a name, and we shared stories about our personal experiences; especially his sweet tooth!

Since I’m known to be extra, I contacted our mayor and asked him if he could possibly create some sort of formal commendation or award to present to this exemplary human. He liked the idea which had actually never been done in the history of our city, and asked me to write a little speech for him, which I did. He took it a step further and created Mailman Steve Day and presented him with a framed award.

It was an old-fashioned community gathering, enjoying a beautiful SoCal evening AND happily for me, a little Leon Russell chat.

I yelled out to a neighbor, “Hey, Leon!” because he has long white hair and a beard, so of course I always refer to him as “Leon”, and another neighbor said, “Why do you call him Leon? That’s Jim.” and I told him it’s because he looks like Leon Russell. His response was, “How do you know about Leon Russell? Do you know Mad Dogs and Englishmen?” I showed him the playlist on my phone and told him to pick a favorite Leon Russell song and he chose two of my personal faves, “Girl From The North Country” and “Cry Me a River”.

Someone else requested “Tight Rope” and “A Song For You” and as a crowd gathered, we had a proper singalong. These guys knew every word and we all marveled at the musical genius of the one and only Master of Space and Time. #goodtimes

Best of all for me is that I’m still referred to as “Jason’s mom” even after all these years. It was so heartwarming to have several forty-year-olds (!) fondly remembering the backyard skate ramp and shared lovely memories about my original angel boy. I am so very proud to be Jason’s mom.

This happy community gathering to honor our mailman shows me that there IS hope for our country, even if it’s hanging on by a thread.

P.S. Next Saturday, October 18, is another day to protest the regime, another NO KINGS DAY, and I’ll be on the frontlines to again gather with my neighbors, this time to protect free speech and save America.

On Friday, in solidarity, I attended a Black Lives Matter march and demonstration in my city.

There were eloquent and passionate speeches by local black leaders; I’m not sure of their names, though—afterwards, the microphone was given to current and former Carlsbad residents of color who spoke, sometimes emotionally, about the discrimination they had faced here growing up or on the job.

In a moving way but not angry or raging, one after the other shared their negative interactions with the local police that were vastly different from mine. The crowd was mostly young but very diverse, and the common theme was “thank you for coming, thank you for hearing us”.

The only negative incident I personally witnessed was an angry white woman screaming that she wasn’t a racist but then she walked away when no one took the bait and engaged with her toxicity.

I wish that more of my neighbors had come out to lend support instead of fearmongering and condemning and criticizing the efforts of our younger generation who have (rightfully) decided that ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. They should be ashamed of themselves.

Maybe the truth is that they’re a little or a lot racist and the reality is that it’s hidden MOST of the time.

I was proud to be there and to witness this historic event.

I took a LOT of pics and videos ‘cos a pic really is worth a thousand words.

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