Stirred, not shaken

Hey there!

Imagine, if you will, a structure about the size of an Arby's -- housing the U.S. Postal Service, City Hall and the Coosada Police Department.   Not the sort of place we planned to hang Tuesday morning … but y'all know what God says about plans! (*smile*)  

Some may recall, a number of weeks ago a police officer stopped by. Supposedly, when a relative had been unable to contact the previous homeowners, they called the police asking them to do a welfare check.

("I said a no-no-no, it ain't me babe. It ain't me you're looking for, babe.....")

In the 17 months we've been here, we've received maybe half a dozen letters in our box addressed to Mr. or Mrs. Jxxxxxx.  Distinctive handwriting -- but never a return address.  Rather than let curiosity get the best of me (and wind up in an orange jumpsuit), I quick-like scrawled "no longer at this address" across the front and stuck them in the nearest drop box.  

Then yesterday I received a postcard addressed to Mr. J.  Same distinctive penmanship, but an unsettling, swarmy message to the Mr. about his wife.  AND, the back of the postcard wasn't a scenic something or another -- but a photo of Mrs. J. obviously taken in the backyard!  (BTW, from what I know he and she are, like Tom and me, empty-nesters in their 60's and 70's.)

Tom was all about, just give it back to the mail carrier.  But my 'what-iffer' started spinning. Sure enough the Post Office confirmed, with no return address there's nothing they can do but put it in the 'dead letter' box.   The Police?  Why, they're just the other side of that wall, honey.

Granted, ours is a small town, but I had to smile. Just a weary-looking gal who at first seemed bothered at being interrupted, then incredulous. Next, a friendly male clerk ... plus two inmates who wandered out from the back to see what was going on.  After reading and re-reading the card, she radioed for an officer.  Nice guy, but oh man! I didn't think they were handing out badges and guns to Eagle Scouts … he didn't look old enough to shave!   He took our contact information and assured us his Colonel would know exactly how and where to find Mr. J.  (Ya, that's why they let you guys have access to the cool databases.)   I so wish I could find out what happens next; but then again, I don't want some weird stalker dude showing up here expecting to find Mrs. J.

* * *

In other news ...

It feels SO good being re-retired!   I was secretly overjoyed when two of my favorite coworkers sent me FB friend requests, and another asked for my number.   You could've knocked me over with the proverbial feather when my normally distant GM came by to invite me to the staff Thanksgiving lunch this Thursday.  He even said, "You've always got a home here."  Wow.

We're still waiting to hear from the V.A. and/or U.A.B. Birmingham on Tom's TAVR procedure.  (I don't know about you, but once a call to action's been made, I'd prefer it be sooner rather than later.)  For now, we're planning to join my son and family at their place for Thanksgiving dinner. At son's request, I've ordered a smoked brisket to accompany the big bird.  

'Hope to catch up with y'all again before too many days have passed!  Please, stay warm, stay safe!

Hugs, Myra 

Update!

So, I just had a call from the Colonel (police).  He begins, "So what is it you want me to do?"  (huh?!?. I want you to find Mr. and Mrs. Jxxxxxx and warn them about this creep.)   No. He wants us to come back and get the card and take it over to the Millbrook (next town over) post office and speak to their Postmaster's investigator. I'm not sure what he thinks can be done without a return address, but he said maybe they can stop this kind of mail coming to us. (Ya, right.)

I did take a picture of the front and back (heh heh) and was thinking of sending it to their realtor who may know where they are. Tom says, "Don't get involved."  What say you?