Raznor's Rants

Costarring Raznor's reality-based friends!

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Posted by the bekka

I called Barry this morning to see how he was doing and if he wanted us to come over. Sounding in surprisingly good spirits, Barry said he was busy running around doing errands and shopping, and wouldn't be home until late.

In the course of this, he told me how one of his errands involved going to the post office to pick up some certified mail that had arrived for Skip. Barry presented Skip's wallet and asked to pick up his deceased partner's mail. They apologized, but said they were not able to do so. They said Skip needed to give authorization in order to release his mail, and Barry told them that would be kind of hard to do.

But he avoided going nuts at them. What would be the point? The mail will get sent back, and hopefully it will eventually make it into Barry's hands. At least Walgreen's was willing to give him Skip's developed photos.

And I just sat there, holding the phone, crying with the inhumanity of it all. I wondered if they'd even bat an eyelash if some random black woman were to go in there with Skip's wallet and ask for her deceased husband's mail. The response would have been more like, "I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am. Let me go get that for you right away."

It was bad enough that Bear had to lose his domestic partner and soul-mate of 20 years this week. But he then had to suffer the further indignity of being told by an underpaid Government bureaucrat that they had never been the sort of companions worthy of the privilege of reading each other's mail.

You tell me how that makes America a better place. Just tell me how.

I'm so sorry you're dead, Skip. But I'm not sorry that you don't have to live in such an unfair world anymore.


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