Cupcakes in the Mailbox

I once lived in a small mining town in Wyoming. Yesterday, I got an email from a friend who still lives there. She was concerned about the low level of charitable feelings in the tiny community and hinted that I should move back to help salvage the situation. Although I was flattered, this didn't seem a viable solution, but it made me wonder if I could still be of service.

While living there, I made friends with a lady named Evie, whose situation in life didn't allow for visitors, largely due to her husband's dog, who indiscriminately minced all visitors to shreds. I would sometimes catch Evie at the lone gas station in town, where she worked, however, I was not often lucky in this pursuit.



In an effort to maintain a friendship, I started up a mailbox correspondence. Sometimes I would mail things, other times I would swing by and drop something nice in her mailbox, which was more than a mile out of harms way. Books, letters, and notes alike were all part of the friend-making panoply. Maybe it was silly of me, but I just couldn't give up on our friendship, and I'm glad I didn't.

On Evie's birthday, I made her one of the most hideous looking, ice-cream-cone cupcake towers ever to thrill the human taste buds, then drove through some crazy rain getting it to her mailbox, along with a birthday card.

I never heard anything of it, as I knew would be the case, but weeks later, at the gas station, I had just about talked myself down from the sweets isle when Evie turned the corner, arms loaded. Both appendages flew open as four twelve-packs of Dr. pepper hit the floor, and my dear friend hugged the holy shnoggins out of me. I darn near cried. If that isn't friendship, I don't know what is.

I have thought of my friend on several occasions, and today, I sat down to write her a nice long letter. While struggling to produce a significant and fantastic epilogue of my recent doings, I ended up going through several sadly, superfluous drafts when my six-year old nephew climbed onto my lap. He's currently learning how to spell and wanted to help me with my letter. I gave him the pen and marveled as he sounded out the perfect message:

Those drawings are HEARTS! So Sweet!

So simple. So perfect.

I folded up his letter, put it into a card and wrote Evie a genuine note, wishing her joy and thanking her for her friendship.

It may not seem like a big deal, but often times it's the little things that instill good vibes into a community, or even tug a smile from a friend's lips. Either way, it's a winning strategy.

If any of you are having a tough time getting into the season, I encourage you to get out there and do a good deed and capture yourself a piece of the "Crismis" spirit.

All Best,

Eliott McKay & A Six-Year Old — Wise Beyond His Years!