Welcome to “Dear Daybreak”, a weekly Daybreak column. It features short vignettes about life in the Upper Valley: an encounter, some wry exchange with a stranger or acquaintance… Anything that happened in this region or relates to it and strikes a contributor as interesting or funny or poignant—or that makes us appreciate living here.

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Dear Daybreak,

I’ve always liked the convenient drive-by mail box at the Hanover Post Office. It’s been there ever since I can remember. Just a swerve in off Lebanon Street, a pause at the mail slot, another swerve back onto the road, and one more thing is off your list.

Years ago, that swerve back out was also a way into the parking lot for those going into the Post Office. If exit signs had ever been posted there, they were either short-lived or habit had blinded me to them. I always went in that way. That is, until one day, sometime in the ‘80’s, when I got my comeuppance.

I drove in as usual that day and parked, just as a couple drove past the mail box and pulled in next to me. When I got out of the car, the woman opened her window and began to attack me angrily. A pitbull sat at her feet.

“I saw what you did!” she shouted. “You came in the exit so you could steal my parking place! You can’t get away with that! There ought to be a law against people like you!” I was dumbstruck. I tried to protest. “Oh no, I would never...I always come in…” And finally, “But madam, there were two parking places!” It was useless. There was no getting through to her. I’ve forgotten all the ways I was a menace to society and should be put a stop to, but the list was long. She ranted on for quite a while.

Perhaps because it was all so absurd, I felt what I can only describe as ‘mirth’ bubbling up, and I had to try hard not to laugh. There was something disarming, almost endearing, about the woman. Did she remind me of Aunt Dodo, who excelled at carrying on forever about nothing?

The woman’s husband, behind the wheel, looked bemused. He was used to this and was not getting involved. I assessed the pitbull. He rolled his eyes at me, oblivious to what was expected of him, and smiled the way dogs seem to when they’re panting contentedly.

When the woman looked down at him, and hesitated, I said, “Why, I bet you’d like that dog to jump right out of the window and take a big chunk out of my leg.”

There was a stunned silence. Then, in a very small voice, wistfully, she replied, “Well, I would.”

They say that if you call a demon by its name, it will run off and not bother you anymore. That may be so. The woman’s anger had disappeared. A little smile crept out. Everything was all right.

There’s a big red DO NOT ENTER sign at the exit now. I think she’d like that.

— Karen Sears Sheldon, Hanover

Dear Daybreak:

That was a nice tidbit on the 1909 Quechee Library last week from Jane Meunier-Powell. As a side note, the library is now an Airbnb.

Home in Hartford · ★4.87 · Studio · 1 bed · 1 bath

— Jay Benson, Norwich

Dear Daybreak: