Up to late 2012, I’d been a newspaperman for 15 years. Granted, I worked at three different publications throughout that time, but they were under the umbrella of Times Publishing and then MediaNews. By title I was a graphic designer; ad builder. I was a jack-of-all-trades though, as I learned to be helpful in nearly every department the papers had. Including a journalist position and de-facto copy editor.
I loved my job. I mean really loved what I did, despite feeling like I was riding aboard the Titanic. In the end, the effects of the Recession of 2008 and MediaNews being fucktards drove me to find a new career. After 15 years, it was a moment of pause. Sad, no doubt. The proverbial writing was on the wall.
With a growing family, it was time to move on. And so I as hired on with the United States Postal Service as a “Rural Carrier Associate,” or RCA. Initially I was the back-up driver for Rural Route 3. However, at the Ukiah hub, we RCAs covered seven rural routes in total—from the the Buddhist monastery on Tomki to the Rock Shop south of Hopland, and just about everywhere in between.
I had more work than I knew what to do with. The paychecks were nice. Here’s the thing, if you know me, you know driving plays a big part of my life. Getting paid to do what I love. Fuck yeah!
It wasn’t long before I transferred over to the Hopland route. I heard talk that the regular was going out for knee surgery and would be out of action of up to a year. This meant Hopland was, at least for a little while, my area of operation. My roads. My stops. My people. Plus, the route is the longest in terms of mileage, with the least amount of mail deliveries of the seven rurals.
My ancestors lived and roamed throughout the Sanel Valley. It felt like it was going to be a trip to drive through areas their footsteps once tread. How cool!
I wish I could have been able to bring my DSRL with me on my runs. I did make a lot of mental notes of places I would some day return to and photograph.
Today, I dropped my son off at a friend’s in Ukiah, so he could work on his science fair project. I headed down 101 to Hopland for an afternoon of creating images.
Headed back up Old River Road, which was part of another USPS route, with the windows rolled down and some Dave Brubeck jazzing through the speakers of my Ford. Back up to clean the horse’s stall and pick up my kid.
Grandma was going to pick my son up later on, because he needed more time to work on his project. I shoveled shit, loved on the mare, and hit the freeway, homeward bound.