Letter carriers' toy drive makes it easy to be good

Column

Good ideas are like Black Friday bargains. They're everywhere, but only after we have committed to them — only after we have swiped our psychological debit cards — can we truly evaluate the wisdom of our investment.

One problem with good ideas is, anymore, they tend to be impossibly complicated or staggeringly expensive or both. Interstellar travel, for one. Universal prosperity, cars that won't crash, cheap nuclear fusion and a palatable fruitcake recipe, for others.

It's almost like all the ideas that are good and easy have been used up. Almost, but not quite. As we shall see — or hope to see, at any rate — once more, with the arrival of the first Saturday of December and the annual Toys for Tots Letter Carriers Toy Drive.

It's the one day of the giving season when convenience meets opportunity. "We're going to be delivering your mail anyway," says Kathy Sullivan, a 28-year veteran of the U.S. Postal Service. "You might as well leave a toy by your mailbox."

Many of your neighbors will do precisely that, if experience forecasts performance. Halfway through her Wesley Chapel route last year, postal carrier Lisa Crall had to call for backup — a relief truck to unload her overflowing Jeep. And that was before she came across the fraternal twins, his-and-hers bicycles.

See that? Nothing to it.

Arranging for postal workers to collect toys (registered disclaimer: new, not gift-wrapped) left by mailboxes is such a good — indeed, exemplary — idea that, to our best estimation, every Gulf Coast county from Lee to Hernando is participating. It's so easy, this single day's pickups traditionally account for half of all donations over the seven-week drive mounted by units of the Marine Corps Reserve leading to distribution day (Dec. 17).

Small wonder Toys for Tots area directors such as Bob Loring, who oversees Pasco east of the Suncoast Parkway, hold their breath until carriers return from their completed rounds the middle of each first December Saturday. Not to put too fine a point on it, with some 5,000 qualifying families in his jurisdiction alone, Loring says, "It's make-or-break."

Time for a couple of housekeeping details. First, beneficiary families have been vetted by local elementary and middle schools and/or local social welfare agencies. This is as it should be. Nobody in the distribution division, says Loring, "wants to be the toy police."

Second, donations remain, sensibly and almost without exception, within the donating community. "People in Zephyrhills don't want their toys going to Dade City," Loring says. Or vice versa. "I get that."

Not that we're ever more than a short drive from struggling neighborhoods anywhere in Pasco. Working to balance local sourcing with need, in the 13 years since Loring assumed leadership of the east Pasco unit, distribution centers have grown from one to five: "One for each of our 'poverty pockets.' " West Pasco will operate two centers, north and south (exact locations provided on a need-to-know basis, for obvious reasons).

Local carriers know, just know, they will be surprised and gratified by the generosity of their clients, often against apparent odds. Jeff Murray, 42, describes remarkable largess among the residents of the lower-income mobile home parks on his Zephyrhills route. Kevin Anderton, 43, who once picked up a plush teddy bear so large he had to roll up his truck's back door, has seen chagrin turn to inspiration when clients who've forgotten to shop shove a wad of bills in his hand.

Think that's something? Crall has customers who, for various reasons, no longer drive. Still, they'll park toys by the bagful at their mailbox. "People find a way," she says.

"I have a 9-year-old at home," Anderton says, "and if I were ever in the same shape — God forbid — it's good to know there are people out there who are willing to help."

Would this be an appropriate time to mention the financial troubles facing the U.S. Postal Service, and how close to a prediction is Anderton's nightmare scenario? Probably not.

Instead, let us close on a more ennobling note.

In November 2003, when an anthrax panic shut down 11 post offices in Washington and its suburbs, Loring expected to hear the locals had suspended toy collections. "I figured they'd say, 'We love ya, but we've got a problem down here, and we can't have anything foreign coming in,' " he says. "You couldn't have blamed them."

Instead, echoing their pivotal role in Hollywood's original "Miracle on 34th Street," the U.S. Postal Service and its letter carriers union fulfilled the real-life promise of Santa Claus. "That's when," says Loring, the old Marine sergeant, eyes shining, "I knew I was working with warriors, absolute warriors."

Saturday, they'll be conducting maneuvers again. As usual, however, the success of the operation is up to us. It would be a good idea, and fairly simple, to support their worthy action.