During the second World War while my brother was fighting in North Africa and Italy, my mother made sure she got a letter in the mailbox every day for him. Our home was on a side road, one-quarter of a mile from one crossroad and three-quarters of a mile from the other. Although a mailman went by each corner, because of the location of the post office our mailbox had to be at the three-quarter mile corner, the farthest away. If my mother knew she would be late for the mailman at our box, she would walk to the other corner. Day after day she would walk - sometimes run - to get the letters mailed.
Finally, the mailman at the one-quarter mile corner told her that although it wasn't legal, if she would put a box at the corner and always raise the flag, he would stop and get her letters. That would save her a lot of steps and time. My mother and the mailman have been gone many years, but I often think of the many letters she put in that box, and the many steps that were saved by a kind and thoughtful mailman.
St. Joseph, Missouri
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.
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