Last Monday I was traveling down First Avenue on my way to the Post Office. For the first time in my life, I was attempting to send a letter to Wisconsin – to the Kimberley-Clark Company, in fact. (Home of Kleenex tissues, I hoped.) I had spent some time attempting to research their address on the Internet. No dice.
I finally found a viable address on the back of a somewhat battered tissue pack. However, the tissues were well-traveled and the address barely legible. I could not tell if the printed ‘WI’ signified Wisconsin or part of something else like Washington, D.C. So I headed for the post office, hoping that a friendly postie could enlighten me.
But-on the way, what do you think I spied? A Wisconsin license plate on the street directly in front of me! In all the years I have lived in Ladysmith (nearly thirty) I have never encountered a Wisconsin plate.
Remarkably, the elderly driver turned the corner and parked only half a block down, next to an empty parking space. I took it, got out and smiled at the lady sitting in the passenger seat. She rolled down her window and I told her my dilemma. She referred me to her driver husband, ‘the American.’ He was friendly, helpful and scanned my entire envelope. He assured me that the address was in fact in Wisconsin, and also the home of Kimberley-Clark.
What luck! I headed to the P.O. wherein his expert advice was confirmed.
Again, my thanks to the gentleman from Wisconsin, who has facilitated the mailing of my little granddaughter’s art work, which she thought ‘might look good on the Kleenex boxes or napkins.’
Life is full of coincidences and ironies. Witness my Fiftieth birthday party, held here at the Ladysmith Legion (too many) years ago. For the event I had skinnied down to 150 pounds. Exactly 50 people attended. I was turning 50 that night and somebody enclosed a Lottery quick-pik in my card. You guessed it – I won exactly fifty bucks!