My uncle, after whom I am named, was a Mailman.

Back in his day that’s what the postal workers who brought the mail and drove the trucks were called for contemporary reasons. He delivered mail in the downtown area of what had been a sleepy town on its way to becoming a modern, post World War II town of note.

He not only brought the mail, but he conversed not only with the people who lived downtown and the store owners, but with the customers in the stores and people walking around the down town sidewalks.

Along with the bills, he delivered the greeting cards, the wedding invitations, family news, and the long distance notifications of family tragedies. Regardless what he had to deliver, he voluntarily brought a lot of humor and neighborliness along too.

One time he had to mentor a law student who had taken a job at the post office to support his studies, and who learned that besides the actual job of dropping off inanimate pieces of mail, from important to junk, the job involved people with whom you spoke and to whom you listened – something the fledgling lawyer put to good use when he later chose to run for public office leading him eventually to Washington DC.

In conversations I learned there was a lot more to being a mailman than just them observably doing their job out in public. A mailman might seem to have a pretty easy day if all they did was what we saw on the street. There was more work being done behind the scenes that most people never thought or even knew about.

My mailman uncle owned a station wagon, and he loved car trips. He would pile kids in and off they would go to something he thought would be interesting. There were two rituals you got accustomed to if you went on one of these trips.

Every time he would drive under an overpass on a highway, he would beep the horn for the echo and the confused looks of the drivers in the other cars, and whenever and wherever we drove passed a mailman making his deliveries, my uncle would announce, “Mailman!”, and everyone in the car would salute.

Although I do not presently salute when I see one, I still mark in my mind when I do pass by a postal delivery worker, and, if the saluting were mandatory, my arm would be huge as living a block from a major city’s main post office, and with the parking lot for mail trucks being just across the street from the rear of my apartment, I would be spending all day saluting.

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These people work hard.

My postal delivery person, like my uncle, works the downtown area, and on certain days shows up at my building twice, once to bring the circulars with coupons, and later the real mail. I see the postal workers coming for their trucks in the morning, early, and return them at night walking the block to the post office to complete their work and clock out. I have waited for important documents knowing they would come without fail, and I have been happiest when discovering something I ordered online would come by way of the USPS because that meant coming a few days earlier than other delivery services, the cost was less, and I rarely get online excuses for a delay in delivery.

G.K.Chesterton wrote a Father Brown mystery where the criminal went totally unobserved in a string of daylight robberies because he was the mailman, and, when asked if anyone had come to the victim’s home that day, each victim answered that no one had, even as mail on the table near the front door showed that the mailman had been there.

That’s how good these workers are. There is no mail, and then, suddenly, there is.

Magic?

No, hard workers doing their jobs professionally.

This present attack on the US Post Office, being as it is implemented by the man in charge who stands to gain on the stock market if the Post Office fails, is just blatantly political and monetarily advantageous to those with the right stock portfolio. To justify this move, and relying on the public’s gullible acceptance of what people with suits and titles say without proof, situations are being created where the unnoticed and ghost-like performance of the mail deliverers will be tripped up, and, while as they have been doing their jobs unnoticed and the mail has been appearing unseen and faithfully, their former performance will be replaced by delays and people will certainly notice that when checks and medications do not arrive when expected.

Having no existing reason to complain or condemn the post office, the people are being given some by the Trump administration who needs the Post Office to fail by November.

It is a price Trump is willing to pay to make sure that within weeks he will not have to face any of the criminal activity he could be continuing quietly and unobserved save that he reached too high and got himself in a place where his prosecution could begin right after the loss he is trying so desperately to guarantee will not happen.

And when organizational actions are not enough, and as people realize what is happening, Trump will grab for his favorite weapon and attack the postal workers to create animosity between his supporters and something they take for granted, while promoting himself as the greatest lover of God and Country.

These blue lives matter.