When I was a little girl during WWII, my mother, sister, and I lived with my grandparents on their farm in Perdido, Alabama. The main part of town was tiny with a couple general stores, a masonic lodge, a Methodist and a Baptist church, and the post office.
The train went through that part of town every day. Just before it was due to pass through, the postmistress (her name was Beulah Weekly), took a thick mailbag filled with the day’s mail out to the tracks and using a long pole attached it to a hook on a tall post.
When the train passed, someone on that train would reach out and grab the bag, speeding the mail on its way, and then throw out a bag with the incoming mail.
Our Gift Basket Train has left the station and is speeding down the tracks and I’ve just tossed out the first mail bag to those of you who indicated that you were interested by commenting on this post in our blog.
If you didn’t climb on the train before it left, you can still join us when it stops at the next station. Just let us know you are interested by going to Success Express.
Joyce