Arrow-right Camera

The Spokesman-Review Newspaper The Spokesman-Review

Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883
Clear Night 30° Clear

The Slice

My mother’s mail

It's almost November.

So you know what that means.

Yes, my mother is about to start receiving a lot of mail. This, despite the fact she died almost three years ago.

Her mail has been coming to my house since before she passed away. She was something of a hoarder. And her system for handling mail sometimes involved sticking it in a grocery bag with receipts, napkins, old TV Guides, birthday cards and odds and ends from years before. One of a great many grocery bags.

This, as you might imagine, was not the best system for keeping track of bills and important papers.

I had attempted to monitor her checkbook. But near the end of her life, her record-keeping had become erratic and inconsistent. It was not until I started seeing her mail every day that I realized.

She had been writing a lot of modest checks to charitable organizations.

And you know what happens when you do that. With all new frequency, these organizations start sending mail offering exciting new opportunities for giving.

Some of them still are, especially as the holidays approach.

Now don't get me wrong. I didn't begrudge her sending money to charities. That was her business. Besides, we're not talking about televangelists here.

Still, it's a little sad to see the solicitations keep coming. They don't even know she's gone. And, though I realize it's silly to take this personally, I don't suppose they care.

But I do.

I suppose one way to honor her memory would be to send a few of my own checks. But that would be assuming I am more mature than I am.

Maybe I'll arrive at that place one day. But for now, I see these requests that my mother send more money and I walk toward the trash.

The Slice

The online home for Paul Turner's musings and interactions with disciples of The Slice.