Uncle Peter

So, apparently Greg has an ornery Jewish Uncle named Peter who went to a few YL clubs in the past. Two words: support letter. If nothing else, do it for Uncle Peter's ornery response."Oh, look, a letter from my nephew Greg." You know the moment I'm talking about. You're still excited about the letter. Wondering what could be inside. I mean come on, EVERYONE loves getting snail mail that is not (1) bills, (2) coupons (Responder Gal would disagree on this one), (3) advertisements (which I think includes catalogs), (4) credit card promos, (5) election materials, (6) anything from banks , (7) thank you cards, (8) graduation announcements, and (9) wedding announcements.

Especially when you get the key. Again, you know exactly what I'm talking about. And if you don't know what the key is, you're out of connection with 99% of American society. Ok, maybe not that much, but you are out of the loop. I actually feel kind of sorry for you. The key is that good. Just so you're not in the dark, the key goes to the really big mailboxes right next to your regular-sized mailbox. The key is the single greatest thing that can show up in your mailbox. Whenever you go to check your mail, you look over at the big mailboxes to see if there are any keys missing. If there are, you hope beyond all hope that one of them (maybe two?! No, don't get greedy) is in your box. When the key shows up, the mailman (mailperson?) might as well have put an ounce of pure hope in your box. Especially when you weren't expecting anything. At that moment, anything could be waiting for you in the big mailbox. Unfortunately, the hopeful feeling is fleeting. The thing has to actually be something. And that something is rarely something great. But, before you narrow the universe of possibilities by turning the key in that big mailbox, it is, without doubt, the greatest postal-related feeling possible.

I left one thing off the list of things that people don't like to get in the mail: support letters. Even us un-ornery people know what it's like to open a support letter. It sucks because, at first, you think it's just a letter. Thus, we can all identify with Uncle Peter's initial response. "Oh, look, a letter from my nephew Greg. Maybe he's writing to tell me how much he enjoyed reconnecting. Wow, I haven't gotten a letter that wasn't [1-9 above] in decades. Maybe things are starting to turn around for me." But then, once again, the universe of possibilities is cruelly narrowed. Only this time it's not one of us, it's ornery Uncle Peter. Now, I don't know ornery Uncle Peter, but I have an idea to make this situation even sweeter: Put the support letter in a big package. He probably lives in a house, so the key is not in play, but a big package is a big package. The reaction would be similar to the key, especially since the package is unexpected. Oh man, would Uncle Peter be pissed. He would be out for revenge Ocean's 13 style. Still worth it. Greg doesn't have any money anyway.

You might have noticed that I bypassed the stereotypical "asking for money from a Jewish guy" route. Overplayed. But, probably still valid.

A lot of material from this post, Greg. Keep it up.