Thursday the 7thWe live in Mayberry, NC.  At least I think Mount Airy still has plenty of Mayberry left in it.  Here's one example...  Jackson runs out to meet our mailman every day yelling "Hello Tom Snow!".  Our mailman yells back "Hello Jackson!"  Our mailman also stops by to talk to me about motorcycles and usually spends a few minutes chatting with Amy and the boys before moving on to the next house.  He remembers me from my bachelor's apartment days on Jessup Street, remembers when Amy and I married and how flower pots started showing up in the windows soon after.  He also sends us personalized Christmas cards and of course we give him a Christmas present.   We know all sorts of things about our mailman, like that he learned to walk on stilts, out of boredom, in Korea and that he once bought a motorcycle from Burcham's in Colonial Heights, where Amy is from.  It's just one of those small town kind of things that you don't experience in the country (the carriers drive cars and the mailboxes are on the street, not on the house) or in the larger cities ( okay, I'm making an assumption here, people in Detroit or Charlotte may have perfectly great relationships with their letter carrier, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong).  But the point is that I like the size town we live in, where you know by name your letter carrier, the lady that bags the groceries and always insists on taking them to the car for you if you have the kids with you, the people that own the train store, the music store, the bookstore, the frame shop, the sewing store.  And where the town is small enough that you actually run into these people and get the chance to say "Hello Tom Snow!"  Okay, now I have that Sesame Street song, People In Your Neighborhood, in my head.

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