You’re all forgiven for the birthday cards that never arrived.
And now I think I know why I never got those issues of Entertainment Weekly and Rolling Stone too.
Apparently, they were all at Alan Gagne‘s house.
He’s one of the mailmen for the Coolidge Corner area — or was, until he was found dead in his apartment last week by a supervisor who was making sure Gagne was alright.
For many years (since the 1980s apparently), and for no apparent reason, Gagne had been holding onto people’s mail. Sure, much of it was junk (circulars and other crap), and I thank Gagne for not delivering it to me, but a good chunk of it was normal, everyday, first class mail.
Thankfully, Gagne never opened it, so I suppose there’s a chance I’ll finally get that card you told me you sent three years ago. Maybe I’ll also get my copy of the current issue of GQ, which still hasn’t arrived.
(In all seriousness, poor Alan Gagne. I hate to make fun of the recently deceased.)
Martin's Musings 