Spontaneous Memories

Spontaneous memories. They happen when you least expect it. Guess that's why they are spontaneous.
I had one this morning.
We were at Floyds, one of our favorite coffee stops. (lucky for us coffee junkies there are many of them here in Portland)
Back to the spontaneous memory... we are sipping our "fluffy" 16 oz latte and in walks a mailman wearing a pith? helmet. I think that's what they are called. Immediately my mind flashes back to the 60's and my residence at the time in Anaheim, California and a little girl who spent alot of time home alone sick. (that would be me)
We had the NICEST MAILMAN EVER. He wore one of those type of hats (pith?) and pushed a cart full of our neighborhoods mail up and down the "keyholes" in that small suberb of Los Angeles. It is almost always sunny in southern California, and when it rained he had a little plastic baggie type thing to keep his pith dry. Oh~and for those of you who do no know what a "keyhole" is, that is what we used to call a cul-de-sac a back then. Well, the shape of it sort of resembles a keyhole doesn't it and it sure sounded better than "dead end"?
O.K. back to the NICEST MAILMAN EVER. I wasn't allowed to open the door to anyone when I was home by myself so to pass the hours in between watching Captain Kangaroo and the Beany and Cecil Show I would wait by the door for the mail to arrive. We had one of those slots that he shoved the mail through. My intention was to freak him out by talking (in an eerie voice of course) to him while he was shoving the mail in our door.
Except he never would get freaked. He was much too kind, too easy going. He would ask how I was doing and tell me to feel better. He knew all of our names.
I think his name was Barney or something like that. All I know is that for the ten years that he delivered our mail he always had a kind word for all of us ruffians that terrorized the keyhole.
Now the ice cream man was another story...