Late News

Woody drove the mail car.

Five afternoons a week, he picked up the mail on the mainland and drove his 40 mile route, slowly and painstakingly stopping at each and every village along the way. Sometimes he drove stranded passengers although the practice was very much frowned upon and sometimes he carried liquor - frowned upon and illegal. He knew everyone's name and what they were expecting from the Spiegel catalogue and he treated his cargo with respect and loving care. He never got bored or complacent with his routine, was almost never late, and always had a smile for everyone he met along the way. He was what my grandmother called "chipper". Good news and bad came via Woody - draft notices, obituaries, changes of address, birth announcements, even divorce papers. Several families subscribed to "The Courier", a tiny, chatty mainland paper put out once a week and consisting of village news compiled by the locals and submitted through Woody. There were stories about quilting parties, news from the factory, birthdays, who had put up the latest preserves, church events, deaths, who was visiting and for how long, the weather, crop reports, church events, barn raisings, who had chosen what color for their new fence, In these tiny, lonely villages, any news was welcome and Woody delivered it all. He also passed along items that didn't make the paper - a new litter of kittens at Miss Rowena's, the arrest of one of the Sullivan boys for public drunkenness, the fact that someone's wife had gone missing for three days, rumors of a feud between the Elliotts and the Blackfords. Gossip was passed around cheerfully and liberally.

It was a routine trip on that late spring evening except that Woody was running a little behind due to having gotten a late start on the mainland. He was trying to make up the time when he reached the hairpin turn at East Ferry and he never saw Miss Emily's flock of geese crossing the road until it was too late. Geese, feathers, and the mail went flying in the ensuing collision and Woody was thrown from the mail car as it slammed through the guard rails and arched over the water before gravity kicked in. He landed, none too gently, in the cold ocean with a solitary mail bag still in one hand, a bunch of tail feathers in the other, and cursing the geese at the top of his lungs. Miss Emily, who had come running at the sound of the crash, immediately fainted at the sight of the wreckage and the ferry crew who had been pulling out, reversed course and drew back in. Miss Emily was revived, Woody was pulled from the water, and what mail could be salvaged was retrieved to shore but a great deal of it floated out of reach and sank. Two geese, several parcels and the mail car itself were drowned during the rescue efforts.

Woody stood alone and shivering at the end of the breakwater, watching the tide carrying the mail away. He mourned for the car, the geese, and the lost news slowly sinking into the sea.