About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. At night, when the Masonic Home Post Office closed its doors, a regular noticed something peculiar. Every evening, right after the last stamp was sold, a small dog would appear from nowhere and dash into the empty building. No one could explain why or where it came from. One night, a delivery driver arrived early for his shift. Curious about the mysterious dog, he decided to wait inside. After a while, a tiny voice whispered, ‘Hey, stranger—can you please mail my letter?’ Turned out the dog was just an overeager postal assistant who’d been waiting for someone to notice him.
2. One morning, after the Masonic Home Post Office opened early for mail sorting, an old notice appeared on the bulletin board: ‘Free donuts for anyone who can deliver three letters before 8 am.’ A regular delivery driver named Jack eagerly accepted the challenge. By 7:55 am, he had delivered two letters but was stuck trying to find the third recipient’s address. Just then, a friendly neighbor walked in and offered help. Together they found the last house, only to discover it was closed for renovations. With a smile, the neighbor declared, 'Mission accomplished—you’ve delivered three letters!' And everyone enjoyed free donuts.
3. In the quiet hours before dawn, when most townspeople were still asleep, a delivery driver pulled up to the Masonic Home Post Office. Something unusual caught his eye: the neon sign blinked on and off in a strange pattern, as if someone inside was testing it. Curious, he peered through the window and saw an old man fiddling with the wires, humming a tune. ‘What’re you doing?’ asked the driver. The man turned around, smiling broadly. ‘Just making sure everything’s working right,’ he said, waving a piece of paper. ‘Gotta keep this place running smoothly for our neighbors.’ The delivery driver shook his head, grinned, and drove away, muttering something about eccentric old-timers.
4. In the dim light of early morning, a delivery driver pulled up to the Masonic Home Post Office. As he unloaded the mailbags, he noticed something unusual in one of the crates—a small envelope addressed not to anyone but with just ‘Postmaster’ written on it. Curious, the postmaster opened it and found inside only a single stamp, dated decades ago. He shrugged, licked his finger, and stuck it onto an old letter from a neighbor. That was how the Masonic Home Post Office became the town’s time machine for lost correspondence.