Joe the Mailman: Goodbye to All That…
Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 11:55pm
June 26, 2010
To each and everyone, Happy Summer.
Many people, having been in touch over the past three weeks, know that I am not currently at French Woods, although it had been my plan to be there, running the mailroom, as has been custom for many years. Many others, I have not yet told.
I have intended to issue an official announcement of my departure, but I have been unsure of how to do it. Even now, after the considerable length of thought and deliberation I have given, I find myself nervous and hesitant in sending the message. I don’t know if there is a right way or a wrong way to say that things could no longer work out. Somehow, in all the time I have been the French Woods Mailman, I’ve never really stopped to consider the possibility that I would one day no longer be. I have enjoyed so many blissful summers, and it has never once truly looked as though there might be an end in sight. And if there were, I had hoped that end would come under conditions far more favorable (and truth be told, far more ceremonious).
Although I have left my position on my own accord, the reasons for my doing so were not circumstances that were in my control. And I wish that these circumstances did not occur as they did.
Leaving certainly wasn't an easy decision to make, as I never have intended to disappoint anyone or to burn bridges. I wish to stress that when upon making the decision, I did so with the full knowledge that I would miss all of you, and so many more, just as I hope that everyone will miss me equally.
My motivation has been more than just delivering the mail. My greatest joy is to be a good friend, to a good influence, and to share so many wonderful relationships. I have learned so much from all of you and I hope to have provided some inspiration to everyone in the same way.
I wish to express how very much I have loved you all. And how very hard I worked throughout all these years to ensure joy and happiness to the entire French Woods community. It is unfortunate that in spite of my efforts to reach out to everyone, there have been some in the administration with which I have failed at resolving our differences.
It would be dishonest of me to say that I am not hurt and dejected over the conflict that has led to my departure, because I am indeed hurt and dejected.
I do not wish to convey a sense of sour grapes. But I wish to state for the record, that I do not believe I have received fair treatment from those in the administration with which I have disagreed. Nor do I agree with the direction in which this great institution is being taken. Regardless of my approval or disapproval, it is out of my hands.
Many people have urged me that those I am in conflict with try to work out our differences. I am thankful for these kind words of advice. I wish it were so simple as reconciliation, but it is a Fait Accompli, now. Of course, I am disappointed that it turned out this way.
I have been at French Woods for so long, it is an integral part of my life. I feel an organic connection to the camp. Being ‘Joe the Mailman’ is more than just a title bestowed upon me by campers and staff, it has become an identity, of sorts; an identity that I don’t know how to ever give up.
Ultimately, I knew that it was a decision I’d have to make, not based on the emotions of the moment, but on what I knew was true in my heart.
I am reminded of the words of Polonius:
“This above all: to thine own self be true,And it must follow, as the night the day,Thou canst not then be false to any man.Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!”
Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3.
It is my wish, though, that everyone at French Woods remember Joe the Mailman; that I may remain in spirit.
It’s been a long road. I first arrived at French Woods, an eager camper, at the age of twelve. I entered the mailroom as a CIT to the great Eli the Mailman, at the age of sixteen. It was the summer when I turned twenty I became a counselor and took my place as head of the mailroom. I write this declaration now, in the final month of my twenty-sixth year. How very much I had wished to spend my twenty-seventh birthday at camp, as close out this career at that point. If only it were to be.
I hope that the late General Douglas MacArthur will forgive me for turning a phrase:
“…Old French Woods staff members never die; they just fade away. And like the old French Woods staff member of that ballad, I now close my mailroom career and just fade away…”
Signing out one last time,
This is Joe the Mailman…forever.
Postscript:
If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie,
'Bout a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark or a fortress strong,
With chains upon my feet.
You know that ghost is me.
And I will never be set free
As long as I'm a ghost that you can't see.
If I could read your mind, love,
What a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
The kind the drugstores sell.
Then you reached the part where the heartaches come,
The hero would be me.
But heroes often fail,
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take!
—Gordon Lightfoot
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