Stamp of Approval

We had Crazy Inc. stuff the envelopes for us as a part of the assembly. Unfortunately, after demonstrations of their skill level, we didn’t trust them to have accomplished this task correctly. So we unstuffed and verified all contents and order. This included such tasks as determining which invitations were assembled in the most precise manner and sending those to the people most likely to retain them for posterity, such as The MOB and The MG. I apologize to those who read this and feel slighted by having received a 95 percent good, but not perfect assembly; we had hoped you wouldn’t notice, with nothing else to compare it to.

At 3:45 p.m., on Saturday, the invitations were a week beyond the acceptable ultimate last day they should have been mailed, and we needed to get them en route to our guests. I hit the USPS website and pulled up the Love stamp. I enlarged, printed, and offered the design to my bride-to-be. She approved. We headed off to our local post office branch.

Upon arrival, we said, “Hi. Yes, wedding invitations. Late. Evil printers. How much postage do we need?”

“Sixty cents,” was the reply.

The essence, the eternity, the all-encompassing documentation of all we hold true and cherish, the colors, the font, the symbol, all weighed about two ounces, a little depressing, yet affordable to mail.

“We need eighty Love stamps, like this one we enlarged and printed for your reference.”

“What we have is in the case,” said our friend in blue.

The Love stamp was not present in the case. Surely, you reserve a supply of one hundred or more in a velvet-lined gold safe behind the counter. These are the preferred stamps of wedding invitations countrywide.

“Do you know of a branch that has them?” we asked.

“They probably have them at the main branch downtown, but they close in fifteen minutes.”

“These need to be mailed today. Can you call and ask?”

“They sell stamps at Kroger and some banks. You could try there,” was their reply.

I went through the white pages and called Kroger (who only sells $.37 stamps) and some other possible stamp retailers to no avail, as all the banks were on banking hours. At the same time, we learned from our helpful post office workers that we were apparently in between model years on the Love stamps, and therefore inventory was low citywide, but they still might have some at the main branch.

I glanced at Christa. “These have to go out today,” she said.

“Then we have to use the flower-bouquet stamps,” I replied.

The $.60 flower-bouquet stamp was lovely and had many admirable qualities, but it did not say Love on it.

“Put them on pretty,” Christa said.

This statement implied that, since we didn’t have a stamp that said Love, we would have to hope the receivers inferred Love by the painstaking effort we put into locating and centering the non-Love stamp. There was a chance that, without an exquisite stamp presentation, given the absence of Love spelled out, some people might forgo opening the invitation, thereby rendering all of our design and labor efforts useless and futile.

Fifteen minutes later, we walked out of the post office, our invitations at the mercy of our friendly postal workers. I smiled and felt a bit of relief. I turned. Her expression was a little more sour.

“We finally got our invitations out. Aren’t you happy?” I asked.

“Everyone knows that wedding invitations have the Love stamp on them. People will look at them and go ‘What is this?’ We should have ordered the stamps months ago. We are so stupid.”

My brain registered a warning light. I needed to respond in the right way, else something bad would happen.

My first thought was practical: “We didn’t know how much postage was going to be a few months ago.” Not good enough. C’mon you can be supportive.

My second thought was defensive: “I’m not stupid. You should have thought of that. You have all the bridal magazines.” Need I explain this one?

Next I mentally considered disbelief: “Sweet Jesus, woman. You need to calm down. They’re just stamps.”

I quickly realized that her ideal dream wedding was conceived, given life, and nurtured a time long before I came into the picture and that, at times, I was probably more disposable then her wedding vision. I didn’t want to say anything to reinforce that perception.

Finally, something positive and credit-deferring presented itself, and I went for it.

“I have never noticed or recalled a stamp on a wedding invitation I’ve received, and when they open ours and see the beautiful invitation you’ve created, no one will be able to remember a thing about the stamp.”

I said it and nothing exploded.

Let this be a lesson, children. Never judge your mail on the color and orientation of the postage; it is what’s on the inside that matters.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival