JOY ALONG THE WAY: ABUNDANCE OF ADDRESS LABELS OFFERS IMPETUS FOR LETTERS

Today I made an inventory of a different kind. I counted the number of return address labels I currently have. The total is 931. Tomorrow it may be increased by 33. In making my inventory I noticed 33 seems to be the favorite number for one sheet. I probably will have four letters to mail. So?

I keep these labels on my telephone desk underneath the directory. I noticed the directory was rising like yeast on a warm day. The ratio of incoming and outgoing labels is lopsided.

The labels are pretty little things, keeping up with the seasons. Now, and for several months to come they will be decorated with flowers and birds. They look pretty on the stark white envelopes, giving them a kind of friendly grace.

I study the labels on incoming letters. Some that are nationally supplied such as the American Lung Association are the same not matter from where they come. The March of Dimes labels, at the top of the sheet says, "Cape Girardeau, Mo. area." I wonder if that means different labels for different areas.

But, back to the over abundance. I suppose everyone who had made even a small donation to some cause receives these labels. As the mounds under my directory grow higher, to me it become accusatory, silently saying, "You should write more letters, keep in touch with your friends and loved ones." I have a friend in Perryville who does just that. Daisy writes about what's going on in her garden, how her sister Viola comes to help her with small chores and the little travels they take, when and for what they go to doctors. I know about what their various younger loved ones are doing or not doing. There is nothing literary about the letters, yet, strangely they are something like Thoreau writing, "Today I worked in my bean field," or "I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on a roost, if only to wake my neighbors up."

So, I vow to write more letters. A nephew in New Orleans might be interested in how much I like the works of the southern writers, my failed attempts to get Spanish moss to grow here, my better attempts to cook some Cajun food.

A cousin in Florida who likes to keep up with kinfolk would appreciate any news of what Steve, Viney, Lauren and I are doing on a daily basis teaching, doing bank business, attending college in London and listening to the purple martins warble and chatter. Yes, they're back!

Another cousin in Vallejo, Calif., who likes cats, has 16 of them, would appreciate some cat tales about pretty Bootsie who traverses my yard or the svelte Siamese who sits and stared at me when I try to remove her/him (?) from the flower border. This cousin tells me his cats warn him when an earthquake is coming.

Still another friend would be interested in what is in my flower border. Right now I could tell her about the tall white iris and the low-growing gazinia, oncoming phlox and purple cone flower.

A second cousin in Texas who raises cattle would be interested, maybe, in my old barn tales, chuckling, no doubt, at the big frame barn with high loft full of hay. He has efficient little metal contraptions that shelter his cattle and holds bales of hay.

Another friend is interested in one of those outside fireplaces. Made of clay, I think. She speaks of how handy it would be to burn excess dead yard sticks and twigs. I could tell her I'm getting interested in one of those things too. Such a handy place to burn excess return address labels when I get weary of trying to reduce the inventory by use only.

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.