Andy Young: The mail bonanza that wasn’t

By Andy Young

I loved getting mail when I was young. “Mad Magazine” and “The Sporting News,” two publications I pored over at great length during my extended childhood, arrived periodically (pun intended) in the mailbox, as did the junk I’d sent for after collecting the appropriate number of box tops from whichever cereal was offering cool (and free) stuff to loyal box-top-accumulators.

These days my mail consists primarily of junk, including periodic “special offers” from, among others, insurance companies, credit card purveyors, loan providers, landscapers, exterminators, and window-replacement companies, plus ads from local supermarkets and appeals from various donation seekers, a few of whom might not be scammers looking for new suckers to bilk.

Last Wednesday afternoon the first thing I saw when I opened my mailbox was, predictably, weekly circulars from three local grocery stores. But underneath them were a postcard and three envelopes, two of which were actual letters written by actual people, with actual stamps on them! The third envelope contained a bill from Portland Water District, but that didn’t lessen my elation. I rarely get three pieces of real mail in a month, so getting three in one day was like winning the lottery!

Energized, I tossed the ads into the recycling bin and donned a pair of reading glasses so I could fully enjoy the unexpected mother lode of personal correspondence. I began with the postcard, which had a photo of Paris’s Arc de Triomphe on it. On the back was my friend Kevin’s entertaining and informative handwritten description of watching, from his observation post atop the Arc, traffic from 12 different avenues trying to merge onto (and exit from) France’s most dangerous traffic circle.

The postcard describing Europe’s foremost demolition derby training ground was merely the appetizer. Shifting my attention to the main course (the two letters), I prepared to tear one open when I noticed it wasn’t addressed to me, but to my son, who currently attends the University of Maine. Closer examination revealed something more troubling: a yellow sticker on the envelope’s lower right, which read, “RETURN TO SENDER; UNABLE TO FORWARD.” Utterly deflated, I saw it had been postmarked 18 February 2026, meaning a letter I wrote to my son which he never received had just spent the previous seven months in postal limbo.

But the disappointment was just beginning. The second letter, also intended for my son, sported a “RETURN TO SENDER” label, too. The difference: this one was postmarked 9 September 2025, so it had spent more than a year in parts unknown prior to returning to its point of origin!

The United States Postal Service probably isn’t to blame for this snafu, since both envelopes containing the returned letters were unopened, and in perfect condition. I suspect the mix-up took place in the University of Maine’s mailroom, since my son was living in a dormitory there when I sent them to him. But at least I’ll have two interesting (and now historical) documents to give him the next time he’s home.

I cannot say enough good things about the University of Maine. One of my offspring earned his degree there, and another is scheduled to obtain his in just over a year. Both have gained a great deal from their experiences in Orono, although perhaps significantly, neither ever took a course in postal studies there.

I’ve written a check to pay the Portland Water District bill. I’m not sure where I’ll mail it from but I definitely won’t drop it in a mailbox where there’s even the slightest chance the contents will be routed through the University of Maine’s mailroom. <