{"id":3992,"date":"2026-05-18T22:24:14","date_gmt":"2026-05-18T22:24:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/?p=3992"},"modified":"2026-05-18T22:39:57","modified_gmt":"2026-05-18T22:39:57","slug":"little-boxes-but-not-the-same","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/2026\/05\/18\/little-boxes-but-not-the-same\/","title":{"rendered":"Little Boxes, But Not The Same"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Back in the 60s (I think), Malvina Reynolds wrote a song called “Little Boxes” which was about conformity in society. I flashed on the lyrics when I saw and photographed this image of mailboxes at the end of our road. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We own a lake property in northern Wisconsin. In general, the county provides wonderful services for our remote location with an asphalt road leading to our house. I grew up in Iowa, and these and many more traveled roads would have been gravel. I read or perhaps imagined that this commitment in Wisconsin was because of the dairy industry and the need to reach rural farms no matter the weather. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The mailboxes used to be much closer to our house. There was even a side road along this deserted road and the mailboxes were at the intersection of this road with the main uninhabited road. Not only that, but USPS and FEDEX would deliver packages directly to our door just like in the big city. Near Christmas time, we used to have AMAZON and other online shopping providers ship to our rural location because there was no possibility of porch pirates. We would go up on weekends and there would be a pile of boxes next to our door. It worked great unless we or someone shipped something that might freeze. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then it all stopped. I blame Trump, but I think it happened before then. We had to move our mailbox down to where our road departed from the highway. We did. Then, the USPS stopped delivering packages because the parcels were undeliverable. What this meant was that our mailbox was too small. They would not drive the extra half mile to our door, as was originally the case. The undeliverables were not returned, but held at the post office and we may or may not receive a notice that we had to pick something up. I liked the pile by the door better. Most of the mail we received was junk, making it difficult sometimes to find the notice that a package was available. FEDEX still delivers, but AMAZON seems to use both systems, so you never know for certain when something will be delivered and when you will have to remember to go search for your package. The post office lady always glares at me when I ask if I have received any packages. She has to sort through a giant pile to see if something for us is there. Sometimes I can’t remember our house number and that seems to really annoy her. This was never an issue when I grew up, and each farm had a mailbox. We have given up having packages sent to the lake. It was getting old trying to explain to the post office lady about my life and why I am not aware of the house number of what is now my second home in the country. She did not seem that interested. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many of our neighbors adapted and bought giant mailboxes (see photo). These folks must feel silly most of the year if they are like us. They have a giant mail box and get one small local shopping paper each week. We (mostly me) have not given in. I bought a brand new, regular-sized black mailbox, and I am not about to let the government pressure me into getting anything larger. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes, our mailbox does look lonely and sad. I like to think of it as proud and resolute. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Back in the 60s (I think), Malvina Reynolds wrote a song called “Little Boxes” which was about conformity in society. I flashed on the lyrics when I saw and photographed this image of mailboxes at the end of our road. … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":4,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"federated","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3992","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3992","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3992"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3992\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4002,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3992\/revisions\/4002"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3992"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3992"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.learningaloud.com\/curmudgeonspeaks\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3992"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}