At the Monterey Post Office this morning, the postman was most agreeable and had a great smile on his face.
Then he turned and saw a women he knew, “hello sweetheart,” he said to a lovely, tall woman, dressed elegantly standing in line.
“Come on over here and wait.” He motioned her to stand next to me.
“How are you honey?”
“I’m feeling just fine.”
“I haven’t seen you for awhile.”
“I know, I haven’t needed to come here for a few months. But here I am now, almost 100 years old.”
Then I couldn’t stand it, I had to get into the action.
“Wow, She looks great.”
“Yes, and she’s a sweetheart.”
“Well thank you. When my birthday comes, I’m going to celebrate it with fireworks and lots of hootin’ and hollering’.
I got my work at the post office finished, and with a smile on my face, I went next door to the French bakery and noticed a Dutch sign on the wall, even though I know it’s a French bakery.
I saw some tiny jars of raspberry jam and I purchased three of them to take to Cambodia with me. I’m not certain, but I think my host family will enjoy those. And they’re small enough to carry around in my suitcase.
I have been buying odds and ends of items to give away, and trying real hard to make certain they are made in the U.S. I have had my eyes opened at how many American goods are made in China. Remembering last fall that my AmeriCorps pin was made in China, as well. That’s just wrong.
Then I started to wonder what it was like in the U.S. one hundred years ago, when the sweetheart was born. How much did we depend on China then?