Growing up, there were three things that I would look for in my day that would get me running for the door, the sound of the approaching Mister Softy ice cream truck and its peculiar bell, the rumbling sound of my father’s approaching Plymouth Duster and the peculiar sound of a funny looking white right- sided steering wheeled truck with red and blue emblems and manned by men in blue uniforms delivering news, bills and packages — the all too familiar postman.