Yesterday morning I commented on the weather conditions here in Columbia--dismal but certainly not threatening to life or limb. I wrote that late in the morning. In the predawn, the publisher of The Wall Street Journal messaged saying, in effect, don't expect today's Journal. With the cautions over the past 36-hours I really didn't expect our local newspaper, The State, published in downtown Columbia either. Why print newspapers that might end-up as a sodden mass? Surprise, surprise, both newspapers were in their normal places yesterday morning predawn. A while later, around four o'clock yesterday afternoon, it was becoming more blustery around here. My walking stick and I exited the house to peer at the sky and to double-check that Old Glory was still secure on Her pole perch. Everything was fine. As I was about to return to the shelter of our home, I heard the familiar sound of the letter carrier's truck. He stopped at the driveway handing me this week's New Yorker magazine. We then recited, together, the mail carrier's creed, "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds," after which we shook hands and I expressed my pride in having him as my carrier. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that these happenings, or ones like them, were the norm throughout the hurricane affected areas of our Country to include The Great State of Alabama.