And lo it came to pass that I found the Reed's Mill letter. Two things: We have friend's with the last name of Reed. And one of the cards we sent out had a primitive, New England cover in the style of grandma Moses. Pure coincidence but one me and Uncle Emil were quick to jump on.
Aside: Every year we still send out Christmas cards for we like to receive mail and also force people to find a ball point pen. Good for both the Postal Service and the economy. Mostly we do it 'cause I like to write. So does Lois. Most years we hand out or mail about eighty of our letters. This year we didn't bother to include a card. Screw the greeting card industry. Hope that's not part of the Butterfly Effect.
Like I'd written earlier it was my friend Bruno who received very personal and insulting cards from me. I truly loved to write them. The worse they were, the more he liked them. Masochistic Wop Syndrome at its best. If you read this Bruno, put the shiv away, you know I love you. But not in that way.
No more than twenty of the Reed's Mill letters went out and accompanied the actual Christmas letter. Didn't do that but once. The postage was a killer.
Reed's Mill (Don't remember the year)
It's Christmas time at Reed's Mill (see card - guess you'll have to imagine the dam, frozen pond, kids skating and the mill above), a time to celebrate, relax and reflect on all the wonderful years gone by. It was the invention and patenting of the Cadaver Press that gained Joshua Reed his international renown. In the beginning, the press' intention was to conserve the native hardwoods of New England. Both burial space and wood were at a premium during the first half of the 19th Century in the Northeast. Reed quickly realized that by crushing the remains of an expired loved one into a one foot cube, casket construction would be greatly simplified and the material needed, reduced several fold. A fine example of Yankee ingenuity and frugality.
With the coming of the Civil War in the next decade, Reed patented and added the Precious Bodily Fluids wheel. When the loved one's body was pressed, rather than waste the water, mucus, blood and urine, Reed used the fluids to drive a second wheel. The war proved a boon that drove the machines in both Reed's cabinetry shop and grist mill.
In 1863 a more powerful and efficient press was added which allowed the Cherished to be compressed into a queen sized brick. A touch of portland cement, a dash of red coloring and, voila!, Reed had the makings of a truly fine and sturdy building material. Few know that many of the monuments, Gettysburg and Antietam for example, were made from the very men who perished there. Knowing this adds both meaning to each site and comfort that none died in vain. Our hats off to you Joshua Reed!
The Reeds, our friends not Joshua, seemed to enjoy the note. Even responded about finally having been found out. I should give this style of letter more thought about its decorum. But if I did, they'd never get mailed.
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