Speaker 1: Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens,
Speaker 1: you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay.
Speaker 1: I create everything you hear on Nothing Much Happens with
Speaker 1: audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different
Speaker 1: charity each week, and this week we are giving to
Speaker 1: Mona Foundation. They work to support grassroots initiatives around the
Speaker 1: world that educate all children, empower women and girls, and
Speaker 1: enable them to transform their own communities. You'll find a
Speaker 1: link to them in our show notes. If you are
Speaker 1: interested in subscribing to our ad free and bonus feeds,
Speaker 1: visit us at Nothing Much Happens dot com and why
Speaker 1: not ask your friendly local librarian to order Nothing Much
Speaker 1: Happens the book. There's a beautiful hand drawn map in
Speaker 1: the front so you can see where all your favorite
Speaker 1: nothing Much Happens locations are in the village. Now, there's
Speaker 1: a technique to these bedtime stories. They have just enough
Speaker 1: happening in them to keep your thinking mind engaged, but
Speaker 1: not enough to keep you awake. This engagement shifts your
Speaker 1: brain activity from its default mode to task mode, and
Speaker 1: when you reach task mode, sleep comes easy. So just
Speaker 1: listen to the sound of my voice, follow along with
Speaker 1: the general shape of the story, which I'll tell twice,
Speaker 1: going a little slower the second time through. And if
Speaker 1: you wake later in the night to get back to
Speaker 1: task mode, you can listen again or just think through
Speaker 1: any part of the story you can. Remember. This is
Speaker 1: brain training, and you will become more proficient with practice.
Speaker 1: Be patient if you're new to it. Now lights out, campers,
Speaker 1: snuggle into your sheets and make yourself as comfortable as
Speaker 1: you can. If there's anything still kicking around in your
Speaker 1: head that might keep you up, first acknowledge it. That helps,
Speaker 1: and then we'll let it go with a couple big breaths.
Speaker 1: Breathe in through your nose and sigh through your mouth.
Speaker 1: Nice one more, all the way in and out. Good.
Speaker 1: Our story to night is called r s v P,
Speaker 1: and it's a story about a stack of envelopes on
Speaker 1: their way to being delivered. It's also about a day
Speaker 1: many have suspected was on its way, the view from
Speaker 1: the front porch swing, and how good it is to
Speaker 1: have something to look forward to R s VP. Some
Speaker 1: days my mail sack is heavy, loaded down with catalogs
Speaker 1: or junk mail. Some days the rain creeps down the
Speaker 1: back of my jacket as I walk the neighborhod woods,
Speaker 1: where the sidewalks are icy and the wind cold. But
Speaker 1: today today my bag was as light as my heart.
Speaker 1: The sky was bright blue and dotted with soft, wispy clouds.
Speaker 1: Today I looked forward to climbing porch steps and delivering
Speaker 1: the mail because in my sack were dozens of square,
Speaker 1: hand addressed envelopes. They were slotted in between circulars and
Speaker 1: magazines and bills and other bits of correspondence. I'd spotted
Speaker 1: them as I sorted this morning, the creamy paper, the
Speaker 1: careful handwriting, the love stamps that were popular for such missives,
Speaker 1: and it had made me smile and a quiet, knowing way.
Speaker 1: So it was official. I think we'd all seen it
Speaker 1: coming and just been waiting for the announcement. I certainly had,
Speaker 1: not that I'm nosy. I just pay attention. And when
Speaker 1: you deliver mail, well, you notice what car someone drives,
Speaker 1: You learn the names of their dogs, You notice when
Speaker 1: something changes. And a few months ago something had changed
Speaker 1: at Marmalade's house. The orange kitty who sat on her
Speaker 1: perch beside the front door, watching me bring the mail
Speaker 1: each day watching as her scraggly dog brother Crumb, barked
Speaker 1: at me through the letter slot. She now had another
Speaker 1: dog friend with her, and he was one I recognized
Speaker 1: from a neighborhood I also delivered to. I remember that
Speaker 1: first day, I'd seen the giant greyhound asleep beside the
Speaker 1: radiator under marmalade spot, Crumb barking away as usual, and
Speaker 1: the greyhound barely lifting a heavy eyelid to see what
Speaker 1: all the fuss was about. I pushed the bundle of
Speaker 1: mail in through the slot, peeking in the window and said, Bertie,
Speaker 1: is that you? He didn't get up, which in a
Speaker 1: way was only a confirmation of his identity, because Bluebird
Speaker 1: is a very lazy boy. But he did thump his
Speaker 1: tail a few times against the floor, and I turned
Speaker 1: back to my route with a smile on my face.
Speaker 1: Well well, well, I thought, looks like I'll be delivering
Speaker 1: Bertie's treats to Marmalade's house from now on. And here
Speaker 1: I was. Months later, I was delivering more than that
Speaker 1: to all their neighbors and friends. I turned at a driveway.
Speaker 1: Every house in this old neighborhood has a different kind
Speaker 1: of male box or slot, and when I first started
Speaker 1: on this route, there were a few that had seemed
Speaker 1: like puzzles i'd needed to solve. This house in particular,
Speaker 1: had stumped me for a few days, until i'd finally
Speaker 1: knocked on the door and asked them where in the
Speaker 1: waldo was their mailbox? In the casement surrounding the door,
Speaker 1: all of which was painted black, was a little hidden flap,
Speaker 1: invisible unless you knew where to look. The woman who'd
Speaker 1: answered the door had laughed and apologized as she'd pointed
Speaker 1: it out. It had been easier to see, she'd said,
Speaker 1: before they painted kept meaning to let her in the
Speaker 1: word mail and read. Well, that was a few years
Speaker 1: ago and it still hadn't been done, but I didn't mind.
Speaker 1: It was like knowing a password to a secret room.
Speaker 1: And as I climbed to her front porch, I took
Speaker 1: her mail from the bag. She'd gotten one of the
Speaker 1: pretty cream envelopes, and I imagined her wrestling it from
Speaker 1: her chihuahua, who usually grabbed the letters right from the
Speaker 1: slot as soon as I pushed them through. Today, there
Speaker 1: was no barking as I stepped to the door. They
Speaker 1: must be out on a walk, lucky timing her invitation
Speaker 1: wouldn't have teeth marks in it. A few houses down,
Speaker 1: I took another envelope from my pack. This house had
Speaker 1: a mail box by the street, but I kept an
Speaker 1: eye on it to see that it was regularly emptied.
Speaker 1: The man who lived in this house sometimes had a
Speaker 1: hard time getting around. Unluckily, the whole neighborhood watched out
Speaker 1: for him. On a spring clean up day, his storm
Speaker 1: windows were taken down, his front porch swept and tidied,
Speaker 1: and now and then when I climbed to steps, i'd
Speaker 1: find a bag of groceries left by a neighbor waiting
Speaker 1: at the door. To day. His mail box wasn't overly full,
Speaker 1: maybe just one other day's worth of mail inside of it,
Speaker 1: but I was eager to make sure he got his invitation,
Speaker 1: so I emptied it out and arranged the bundle with
Speaker 1: the cart on top, and turned toward his porch. He
Speaker 1: surprised me, sitting in his porch swing with a glass
Speaker 1: of iced tea in his hand. He waved me up
Speaker 1: and patted the spot beside him, suggesting I take a
Speaker 1: little break. There was a warm day, and a few
Speaker 1: minutes rest did sound good, but mostly I wanted to
Speaker 1: chat about the news I was bringing, so I plopped
Speaker 1: down and handed over the bundle. He nearly set it aside,
Speaker 1: saying he'd looked through it later when the envelope caught
Speaker 1: his eye. He looked at me when he read the
Speaker 1: return address and said, is this what I think it is? Well?
Speaker 1: Open it up. I haven't actually seen one yet, just
Speaker 1: the outside. He turned the envelope in his old hands,
Speaker 1: carefully tucking his thumb under the flap and popping it open.
Speaker 1: He slid out a thick card and the same cream
Speaker 1: color as the envelope, and I leaned in and read
Speaker 1: it over his shoulder, pretty engraved calligraphy, the names we
Speaker 1: knew we'd find, a date in supper, and a little surprise.
Speaker 1: The wedding would be at the Inn, the old one
Speaker 1: at the Lake. I imagined that old restored ballroom up
Speaker 1: on the second floor I'd heard about but hadn't yet seen,
Speaker 1: full of folks dancing and eating, and wondered if the
Speaker 1: animals would be at the ceremony by the lake. We
Speaker 1: smiled at each other as I pushed up off the
Speaker 1: seat to continue my route. I pointed out that the
Speaker 1: invite included a plus one did he have a date
Speaker 1: in mind. He blushed a bit and told me to
Speaker 1: mind my business, and I chuckle as I hopped back
Speaker 1: down to the sidewak. Like I said, I'm not nosy.
Speaker 1: But when I saw the stack of invites waiting to
Speaker 1: be sorted this morning, I had admittedly looked through them all.
Speaker 1: I'd seen one for weather Vane Farm, one for that
Speaker 1: old house where the lilacs grew outside of town. The bakery,
Speaker 1: the book shop, the library, a few dozen names I
Speaker 1: didn't know, but happily one for me. I'd be sure
Speaker 1: to R s VP R s VP. Some days my
Speaker 1: mail sack is heavy, loaded down with catalogs or junk mail.
Speaker 1: Some days the rain creeps down the back of my
Speaker 1: jacket as I walk. The neighborhoods or the sidewalks are
Speaker 1: icy and the wind cold. But to day, to day,
Speaker 1: my bag was as light as my heart. The sky
Speaker 1: was bright blue and dotted with soft, wispy clouds. To
Speaker 1: day I looked forward to climbing porch steps and delivering
Speaker 1: the mail, because in my sack were dozens of square,
Speaker 1: hand addressed envelopes. They were slotted in between circulars and
Speaker 1: magazines and bills. And other bits of correspondence. I'd spotted
Speaker 1: them as I soared it this morning, the creamy paper,
Speaker 1: the careful handwriting, the love stamps that were popular for
Speaker 1: such missives, and it had made me smile in a quiet,
Speaker 1: knowing way. So it was official, and I think we'd
Speaker 1: all seen it coming, just been waiting for the announcement.
Speaker 1: I certainly had. Not that I'm nosy. I just I
Speaker 1: pay attention. And when you deliver mail, you notice what
Speaker 1: car someone drives, You learn the names of their dogs,
Speaker 1: You notice when something changes. And a few months ago
Speaker 1: something had changed. At Marmalade's house. The orange kitty, who
Speaker 1: sat on her perch beside the front door watching me
Speaker 1: bring the mail each day, watching as her scraggly dog
Speaker 1: brother Crumb, barked at me through the letter slot, now
Speaker 1: had another dog friend with her, and he was one
Speaker 1: I recognized from a neighborhood I also delivered to. I
Speaker 1: remember that first day I'd seen the giant greyhound asleep
Speaker 1: beside the radiator under marmalade spot, Crumb barking away as usual,
Speaker 1: and the greyhound barely lifting a heavy eyelid to see
Speaker 1: what all the fuss was about. I pushed the bundle
Speaker 1: of mail in through the slot, peeking in the window
Speaker 1: and said, Bertie, is that you. He didn't get up,
Speaker 1: which in a way was only a confirmation of his identity,
Speaker 1: because Bluebird is a very lazy boy, But he did
Speaker 1: thump his tail a few times against the floor, and
Speaker 1: I turned back to my route with a smile on
Speaker 1: my face. Well, well, well, I thought, looks like I'll
Speaker 1: be delivering Birdie's streets to Marmalade's house from now on.
Speaker 1: And here I was, months later, delivering more than that
Speaker 1: to all their neighbors and friends. I turned at a driveway.
Speaker 1: Every house in this old neighborhood has a different kind
Speaker 1: of mailbox or slot, and when I first started on
Speaker 1: the route, there were a few that had seemed like
Speaker 1: puzzles i'd needed to solve. This house in particular, had
Speaker 1: stumped me for a few days until I'd finally knocked
Speaker 1: on the door and asked them where in the waldo
Speaker 1: was their mailbox? In the casement surrounding the door, all
Speaker 1: of which was painted black, was a little hidden flap,
Speaker 1: invisible unless you knew where to look. The woman who
Speaker 1: had answered the door had laughed and apologized as she'd
Speaker 1: pointed it out been easier to see, she'd said, before
Speaker 1: they'd painted, and they kept meaning to let her in
Speaker 1: the word mail and read. Now that was a few
Speaker 1: years ago, and it still hadn't been done, but I
Speaker 1: didn't mind. It was like knowing a password to a
Speaker 1: secret room. And as I climbed to her front porch,
Speaker 1: I took her mail from the bag. She'd gotten one
Speaker 1: of the pretty cream envelopes, and I imagined her wrestling
Speaker 1: it from her chihuahua, who usually grabbed the letters from
Speaker 1: the slot as soon as I pushed them through to day,
Speaker 1: there was no barking as I stepped up to the door.
Speaker 1: They must be out on a walk, lucky timing. Her
Speaker 1: invitation wouldn't have teeth marks in it. A few houses down,
Speaker 1: I took another envelope from my pack. This house had
Speaker 1: a mail box by the street, but I kept an
Speaker 1: eye on it to see that it was regularly emptied.
Speaker 1: The man who lived in this house sometimes had a
Speaker 1: hard time getting around, and luckily the whole neighborhood watched
Speaker 1: out for him. On spring clean up day, his storm
Speaker 1: windows were taken down, his front porch swept and tidied,
Speaker 1: and now and then when I climbed his steps, i'd
Speaker 1: find a bag of groceries left by a neighbor waiting
Speaker 1: at the door to day. His mail box wasn't overly full,
Speaker 1: maybe just one other day's worth of mail inside of it,
Speaker 1: but I was eager to make sure he got his invitation,
Speaker 1: so I emptied it out and arranged the bundle with
Speaker 1: the cart on top, and turned toward his porch. He
Speaker 1: surprised me, sitting in his porch swing with a glass
Speaker 1: of iced tea in his hand. He waved me up
Speaker 1: and patted the spot beside him, suggesting I take a
Speaker 1: little break. It was a warm day, and a few
Speaker 1: minutes rest did sound good, but mostly I wanted to
Speaker 1: chat about the news I was bringing, so I plopped
Speaker 1: down and handed over the bundle. He nearly set it aside,
Speaker 1: saying he'd go through it later. When the envelope caught
Speaker 1: his eye. He looked at me when he read the
Speaker 1: return address and said, is this what I think it is? Well?
Speaker 1: Open it up. I haven't actually seen one yet, just
Speaker 1: the outside. He turned the envelope in his old hands,
Speaker 1: carefully tucking his thumb under the flap and popping it open.
Speaker 1: He slid out a thick card and the same cream
Speaker 1: color as the envelope, and I leaned in and read
Speaker 1: it over his shoulder, pretty engraved calligraphy, the names. We
Speaker 1: knew we'd find a date in September, and a little surprise,
Speaker 1: the wedding would be at the Inn, the old one
Speaker 1: at the Lake. I imagined that old restored ball room up
Speaker 1: on the second floor I'd heard about but hadn't yet seen,
Speaker 1: full of folks dancing and eating, and wondered if the
Speaker 1: animals would be at the ceremony by the lake. We
Speaker 1: smiled at each other, and as I pushed up off
Speaker 1: the seat to continue my route, I pointed out that
Speaker 1: the invite included a plus one. Did he have a
Speaker 1: date in mind? He blushed a bit and told me
Speaker 1: to mind my business, and I chuckled as I hopped
Speaker 1: back down to the sidewalk. Like I said, I'm not nosy.
Speaker 1: When I saw the stack of invites waiting to be
Speaker 1: sorted this morning, I had admittedly looked through them all.
Speaker 1: I'd found one for weather Vane Farm, one for that
Speaker 1: old house where the lilacs grew outside of town, the bakery,
Speaker 1: the book shop, the library, a few dozen names I
Speaker 1: didn't know, and happily one for me. I'd be sure
Speaker 1: to R s v P Sweet Dreams