Day 10 - Send a Postcard from Hell

Date: January 16th, 2010

If you've never been to Hell, MI, it is definitely worth the trip.  I had the pleasure of going with a couple friends of mine from church (oh the irony) in my freshman year in college.  What I didn't do was actually send a postcard or letter through the Hell post office.  I know that's a little silly, but there's a good reason it is an experience to remember.  Besides, I wanted an excuse to take my boyfriend to Hell.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

The drive to Hell is actually quite beautiful, even in winter.  From Ann Arbor, you just hop on the highway, take the Baker Road exit, drive for a while and then turn left on Darwin Road.  You read that right.  If you want to get to Hell, take Darwin Road -- it'll get you there.  I find this infinitely amusing.

Hell is a tiny little town.  There is a hotel, a country store and ice cream shop, a post office and a chapel (Remember, a marriage that starts in Hell has nowhere to go but up!).  The last time I was there I heard about their policy concerning mail.  Any time you send a piece of mail through the post office in Hell, they singe the edge of it for you.  They were nice enough to singe some post cards for me last time, but I never mailed them.  This is the card I chose this time.

Truth.

I wrote out a nice, short note to Nathan on the back of the card and put his address on the other side of it.  That is generally how the first step of mailing a postcard goes.

It says: "Dear Nathan, You were here when I sent this.  I find that amusing.  Love, Kristen"

There is more after the break.  READ IT.

After I filled out the postcard, (which I am mailing to my boyfriend's house in Boston because its the only address I could remember) I took a look around for the postmaster.  Almost immediately, Nathan and I were approached by a man named John.  He seemed to be able to tell that Nathan had been in the military and told us that he was in the army during Vietnam.  Hearing his story was an absolute blessing.  He told us he'd been wounded so badly he was found in a body bag and spent two years rehabilitating.  He has since spent his life working with veteran's groups in Livingston County (where Hell is located).  He told us that the people who were with him when he was wounded all get together on the anniversary of the attack at the Vietnam Memorial and have a reunion, of sorts.  It was an incredible experience and a touching story.

He told us that he had t-shirts for veterans and was kind enough to give Nathan one for free.  It was an incredibly generous gesture.  He'd given out the shirts when he visited Walter Reed Medical Center and a few other locations.  He seemed to light up when he told us that he saw veterans wearing them around the hospital.

This is the front.

And this is just epic.

After he told us about his experiences and his work in Livingston County, we asked him if he knew where the postmaster for Hell was, since he seemed to know the area quite well.  He did.

This is John.  He is the Postmaster in Hell.

There you see John holding my singed postcard to send to Nathan in Boston.  He sent the postcard for free, which was, yet again, incredibly generous.  He also regaled us with another story, though this time it was hilarious.

You see, starting about ten years ago, in Hell, there was a tradition.  Once a month, a man would go to Hell (a 30 minute drive from his native Fenton), to send some mail.  He had been left by his wife for another man shortly before that time.  The court, in its infinite wisdom, decided that he owed her alimony anyway.  So, once a month, he made the trek from Fenton to Hell so he could have his alimony check singed before it was sent out.

That was a story I'd heard before, but there was an update this time.  Apparently, about two years ago, the man met a nice young woman and they fell in love.  Recently, he made the trip out to Hell one last time so he could show John something.  He walked in and handed John an envelope to open.  Inside was his alimony check, but there was something different this time.  The man created a separate account, just for paying alimony.  On the checks he mails his ex-wife, there is a picture of him and his new bride smiling back at her.  He joyfully told John that he didn't think singeing the envelopes would be necessary anymore.

On that hilarious and surprisingly touching note, we took our leave.  Well, first we got our exit visas...

Then they told us to get the Hell out.

Hell is a fantastic cultural stop. It is fun, lighthearted and hokey.  That being said, a big part of the reason this visit was so special was how open, kind and generous John the postmaster was to us.  I would recommend making the trek if only for a chance to talk to him for a few minutes.  You will be better off for it.

Not pictured: John taking our picture.

And so, in conclusion, Go to Hell.  I promise you'll like it.