Bridge Over Troubled Water

Why Don’t You Write Me

Why Don't You Write Me


Sandy sighed and closed her mailbox door. No card from Rick, just the usual collection of mass mailings and a flyer from that new pizza place. He'd promised to send her a postcard each night he was in New York, even asking during their nightly conversations which museum or famous building she'd like to "visit", and she was sure he had done just that. He'd spent Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday night at the hotel, "So the question is, why aren't they showing up in my mailbox?" she asked of no one in particular.

"It's Friday, for Pete's sake!" she groused. "I mean, it's not as if Lincoln's at the tag end of the universe. I should have gotten at least one of them by now!"

The plan had been for Rick to drop a card off at the front desk each morning, so it would go out with the hotel's other mail. While she completely trusted Rick to have mailed one each day, maybe he'd been delayed and hadn't been able to mail the card until later in the day.

"Well, you'll just have to check with him after he gets home this evening," she told herself.

* * *

"...so I really don't know why you haven't received even the first one yet, sweetie. This isn't at all how I'd planned our little mail connection to go," Rick said with more than a little irritation.

"I guess I'll just have to wait, then," Sandy replied in a tone that matched his. "I wonder what the holdup is?"

The eventual answer would surprise them both.

"So, how was your flight home?"

"Not too bad, although there was this one passenger..."

* * *

It was 3 p.m. on Monday afternoon and Sandy was camped out next to her mailbox. The planetarium had closed at noon for routine maintenance and software upgrades, so she had taken the rest of the day off, determined to buttonhole her mailman. Saturday's mail—or, more appropriately, the lack thereof—had seriously annoyed her, fueling her drive to get to the bottom of...whatever it was.

A few minutes later, she watched the boxy vehicle turn the corner and head her way. The driver greeted her as he stopped, then turned to dig through the box to his left.

"Fred, is there something wrong with my mail?"

"What? Yours specifically? No, nothing that I'm aware of. Why do you ask, Ms. Wilson?"

"I've been expecting postcards since the end of last week and none of them have arrived! I'd really like to know what's going on."

"Postcards, you say? Let's see." He turned back to his box and pulled out a handful of envelopes. Quickly sorting through them, he held out two envelopes. Colorful rectangles peeked out from between them.

"Would these be the missing cards, ma'am?"

Sandy seized the mail and pulled out the cards.

"Yes! It's them!" She turned them over and noticed that Rick's words were smeared on two of the cards. "What happened to these, Fred?"

"I can't say for sure, except that it wasn't because of rain; we haven't had any in ages." He thought a moment, then snapped his fingers. "You know, I'll bet it was that little fire in the Omaha Processing and Distribution Center. From what I heard, we didn't actually lose any mailpieces, but there was some water damage."

"I see. And the delay in getting here from New York?"

"The Postal Service has a lot of trucks, ma'am, but no airplanes. We lease cargo space on pretty much all the commercial airlines, but if a mail shipment gets to an airline too late for a given flight, it has to wait for the next one. That would explain how these two ended up in Omaha at the same time."

"Well they're here now and that's the main thing. Thanks, Fred, and have a wonderful afternoon! I have a phone call to make."


[WC: 655]

Lyrics ▼

Why don't you write me?
I'm out in the jungle, I'm hungry to hear you
Send me a card
I am waiting so hard to be near you
(La, la, la)
(Why don't you write?)

Something is wrong
And I know I got to be there (Yeah)
Maybe I'm lost
But I can't make the cost of the airfare
Tell me why (Why, why)
Tell me why (Why, why)

Why don't you write me?
A letter would brighten my loneliest evening
Mail it today
If it's only to say that you're leaving me
(La, la, la)

Monday morning, sitting in the sun
Hoping and wishing for the mail to come
Tuesday, never got a word
Wednesday, Thursday, ain't no sign
Drank a half a bottle of iodine
Friday, woe is me
I'm gonna hang my body from the highest tree

Why don't you write me?
Why don't you write me?
Why don't you write me?
Why don't you write me?
Why don't you write me?
Why don't you write me?
Why don't you write me?