Even though the words are the same, Arnold Schwarzenegger has changed the jingle for me. I’m sorry, but I can’t help but hear “Like a good neighbaaa” instead of “neighbor,” even though the commercial’s “director” or even Danny DeVito repeatedly corrects Arnold. Now, whenever the chorus in the commercial sings, “Like a good…” I hear Arnold’s husky voice intervening with “neighbaaa.”
However you hear it, I know this: my mail carrier is a great one, neighbaa, that is.
He’s no Arnold, but his kindness overpowers The Terminator’s strength.
My neighbaaa, I mean neighbor, has had some physical problems. Before a heart condition put her in the hospital, she accidentally knocked down her mailbox while mowing her lawn. So, Troy Edelen, our mail deliverer, took the extra time to place her mail directly on her doorstep rather than taking the easier mail route, which would mean holding it at the post office. When I caught up with Troy at my mailbox one day, I complimented him for his doordash delivery. Troy smiled. “I’d like to put up a new mailbox for her.”
I thought back to years ago when someone accidentally knocked down our mailbox. My friend Charles West, the custodian at our church then, was kind enough to help me reinstall it.
I doubt that I could have done that by myself. Later, my son, David, replaced the old one for us. He knows I had a “maintenance bypass” somewhere in the past. When he was here a few weeks ago, our son-in-law, John, tried to sympathize with my ineptness in all things practical. John, throwing up a yellow flag in my defense, mentioned that he wasn’t too handy either.
“Can you hang a picture on the wall?” David teased, to which John nodded an affirmative.
“Then you are a step ahead of Dad,” David said, to which we all laughed.
So when Troy mentioned putting in the mailbox for our neighbor, and I tepidly offered to help, he grinned at me like he knew something about me. “Oh, my wife will help me,” he quickly responded, as if he were defending himself from potential disaster. Walking back to our house, I wondered if Troy had observed my handiwork—or lack thereof.
Several weeks later, I noticed a deluxe mailbox replacing the broken one in my neighbor’s yard. It wasn’t just any old mailbox, either. It was a first-class, sturdy, attractive mailbox firmly planted in concrete, the detailed work of someone who knew what they were doing when they installed it.
Troy? I wasn’t sure, but I was as suspicious as Bewitched’s Gladys Kravitz.
Several days later, our neighbor posted a “thank-you” to Troy on Facebook, confirming my suspicion.
Ahh, yes, the work of a talented mail deliverer. Troy readily admitted that another postal worker had helped him, the two working “off the clock” to finish the job.
Troy is more than a Mr. Fix It. He is talented in more than one way. Troy plays in a local band, “STR8FWD.”
I’ve never heard Troy sing as he delivers our mail. I tell Lori he reminds me of a 70-ish Peter Frampton, and I can imagine him strumming the guitar section of “Do You Feel Like We Do” as he drives the streets with a mail truck full of deliveries.
Troy expresses his gift for and love of music by praising God at his church. But Troy’s kindness exceeds his vocal abilities. As the Scripture says, “Let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions” (I John 3:18).
My mail carrier shows it. And if I can’t hear him singing it as he delivers the mail, I think I can see him living it, “Like a good neighbaaa.”