Lary Bloom Photo
“Where did you get that hat?” I asked Mitchell Daniels.
As I learned on a sizzling sidewalk in East Rock, I was apparently about the 3,000th person to ask that question since this veteran New Haven mailman bought it at a flea market several years ago. He hauls it out of the closet for use whenever there is Fahrenheit inflation.
I followed up. “What’d it cost, Mitch?”
“Two dollars,” he said.
“You overpaid,” I opined. “I wouldn’t have shelled out more than $1.95.”
“Oh, Lary, you’re just envious,” he said.
He was right. But it was not just hat envy. I recalled that invigorating temporary job I had long ago as a sub for a vacationing postman. My customers awaited my arrival at their doors, eager for the day’s letters. (People used to write such things, using fountain pen and paper.)
Mitch has done far more than deliver priority packages. He has been a source of familiarity, cheer and even soul-saving help since he first put on the prescribed postal uniform (without an umbrella chapeau) 35 years ago.
An observant man behind the wheel of a truck several hours in a day meets a lot of people. Daniels is sure to address a regular customer in East Rock who served in the top ranks of the military as “Sir,” and he celebrated Jake Halprin’s 2018 triumph, winning a Pulitzer for editorial cartooning.
He also knows of the inevitable heartbreak of a long and observant life.
He saw it first in the military, from 1977 – 1983. He served as a helicopter crew chief, then as an X‑ray tech in the reserves, during which he received an award for saving a life.
We talked about my own service, in the Vietnam War. He asked me what I did in it. I told him I was a supply officer. That I had it easy compared to the grunts, the men of the infantry.
“Yeah,” he said. “But you were there.”
He was there, though, on the streets of New Haven using Red Cross first-aid training to save the life of a person hit by a car, though the act was marred by the first policeman arriving at the scene, who made assumptions and asked, “Did you hit him?”
He won two awards from the postal service for saving lives while on duty. After another incident, he saw his name listed in the obituary of a stranger. From his truck, he witnessed a car hit a young boy as he crossed the street. He tried to help rescue the child, of course. But he could see the life draining from his face, and there was nothing he could do but kneel and pray with him. That night, Mitch went home and cried. Later, the boy’s mother learned of Mitch’s act of compassion, and thanked him in a public way.
These days, alas, he is aware of all sorts of dangers, and as the head of security for his church, he is obliged to summon that old military mindset whenever people gather in what used to be a sanctuary of comfort and safety.
The conversation I had with Mitchell Daniels on a recent 94-degree afternoon, standing out in the sun (I was wearing a cotton newsboy cap), left me with complex feelings.
I loved his cheery ways and attitudes. I also was affected by his sidebars into darker news.
I watched as he took out a small package from the truck, and approaching a little customer of not yet 1 year old at the foot of his mother, greeting him as if he were a fluent conversationalist.
As the television ad and truck slogans of the United States post office say, or should say, “People like Mitchell Daniels deliver for you.”
Lary Bloom’s new book, “I’ll Take New Haven,” a collection of essays published on this site, will be released by Antrim House in October.