Every day it appears that I receive more and more mail.  My mailbox is absolutely stuffed.  When I bring the mail inside, I sit by the recycle bin and go through the process of sorting it   I normally keep only one out of ten to twenty items.

Why so much mail?

Part of it is my fault.  Some years ago I donated to an American Indian school in the Midwest.  Since that time I’ve been on the mailing list for almost every Indian reservation in the country. And it isn’j just the Indians.  Once you donate to some worthy cause, it appears that your name is passed on to others. 

Also, once you donate to a charity, they tend to look at you as a bottomless well of future largesse.  Every month, or often more frequently, they ask you for another donation. Many requests for aid are from eminently respectable organizations and worthy causes.  I wish I could help them all.  Failing that, I try to carefully select which ones to support.

But the mail seems endless. It takes trees to produce paper, and over the course of a year I receive enough bulk mail to literally devastate a small grove of trees.