Post office in Fidelity keeps romance alive

FIDELITY, Ill. – Among thousands of Valentine’s Day mailings that have gravitated to this place over the years for the postmark so fitting for the holiday, a widow’s loving plea instantly grabbed Peggy Ruyle’s heartstrings.

Tucked in with a stamped, self-addressed envelope to be given the Fidelity postmark, the old woman’s note lamented losing her husband a year ago, six days after his 85th birthday and just months before the two would have marked 64 years as husband and wife.

“Among the flowers I will put on his grave” this month, the widow wrote, “I want to include this envelope stamped ‘Fidelity.’ “

Ruyle figures she’s read the widow’s note a dozen times, and it never gets easier.

“I choke up every time. I never got a letter this touching,” said Ruyle, 61, who’s been postmaster here for 13 years. “I can picture a little man and woman, sitting in a rocking chair or porch swing, just being happy. That’s a good picture to have.”

At this time of year, Ruyle absolutely loves her job and her small role in keeping romance alive, one postmark at a time.

Few ever see this Jersey County outpost, population 115. It is little more than a collection of weathered mobile homes 35 miles north of St. Louis, as the crow flies, and well off the beaten path.

But folks somehow have heard of Fidelity and its aluminum-sided, shack-like post office with white shutters, the only business in town.

Each year, Ruyle said, a couple hundred Valentine’s Day mailings come her way from around the globe, from as far away as Thailand. Fifty-three arrivals one recent morning included return addresses from Texas, Tennessee, Wisconsin, Arkansas and Florida.

Many requests include notes simply asking Ruyle for the postmark. Some are collecting postmarks with a shared theme, including Loveland, Colo.; Valentine, Texas; Kissimmee, Fla.; Romeo, Mich.; and Juliet, Ga.

The town has seen better times, by some accounts once boasting an Army barracks, grain elevator, several doctors and dentists, a blacksmith shop and grocery stores – all long gone.

“Unfortunately, it’s turning into a trailer town,” Bohannon said. “People die, people move away and things change.”

But not the post office or Ruyle. She puts her heart into obliging each request, delicately stamping each envelope by hand so the postmark won’t smudge, then setting it aside to dry before moving on to the next.

“That’s just a small thing, to make somebody happy for just a couple of minutes,” said Ruyle, her own marriage more than four decades strong. “It’s worth it.”