Another Disaster in the Name of Environmentalism

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever..." ~ John Keats

...Or for one week, if you live at our house. 

Jerry had spent two weeks and more than a couple trips to the big box stores assembling his project, a replacement mailbox.  He primed the box and painted it a bright blue.  He put gold numbers on the front, then decided red would look better so he made the switch.  He took a 1976 Michigan bicentennial license plate and affixed it artfully to one side. 

He searched high and low for the perfect post and couldn't find one shaped just right. He explored the option of crafting his own.  Many of his specialty tools are still back at our Ohio home, so eventually he discarded that idea and eventually found a suitable post at the fourth (or fifth) store he tried.  He primed it then coated it three times with cherry red latex.  The color was a perfect match with the red on the license plate.  He put large reflective numbers down the side.  It couldn't have looked better.

Finally, it was time to erect his masterpiece.  He consulted the U.S. Postal website for the exact height they require.  He then dug a deep hole with the post hole digger.  (This was no easy feat in the land of the kiln-ready red clay.)  Jerry mixed and poured concrete and I helped him hold the post "just so".   

The concrete had set nicely by Monday.  Another job completed by my handy husband!  There was even a functional little flag for outgoing mail that our former bashed-up box did not possess. It was the Cadillac of mailboxes, a thing to be admired.  And so it was.

Neighbors noticed and were quite complimentary.  Jerry glowed with the pride that cometh with the knowledge of a job well done.  People immediately started using it as a landmark.  "Go past the Michigan mailbox....."
 
On Wednesday, Jerry decided to add a little hanging sign, indicating where our house is located in case we ever order pizza or, God forbid, need an ambulance.  Now it was perfect!
 
On Friday the recycling truck accidentally grabbed our mailbox instead of the container sitting next to it and snapped it like a toothpick.  I'm told the driver got out of his truck, and "cursed".  

I discovered the mailbox lying on its side on the lawn when I went to get the mail.  At first I was confused.  It briefly crossed my mind that perhaps a rabid Ohio State fan had rammed into it.  Then it dawned on me what had happened.
 
I called the recycling company on the spot to report the murder of our beautiful mailbox.  I feared they would give me a hard time but actually they couldn't have been kinder.  They said they would build and paint an exact copy of our mailbox and nobody would ever know it wasn't the original. 
 
They, of course, are wrong.  I will know and so will Jerry.