About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. One morning, a little boy walking to school noticed something odd outside the East Portland Post Office. Every time he passed, the mailboxes seemed to tilt slightly, as if they were winking at him. Curious, he mentioned it to his teacher, who shrugged it off. But one day, while delivering letters, a regular postal worker looked up and grinned, ‘Oh, those boxes? They just like playing tricks on kids.’ As for the boy, whenever he walked past, he’d wave back—convinced that somewhere inside, an entire team of postal workers was laughing along.
2. A curious puppy wandering through East Portland stumbled upon something unusual near the post office entrance one afternoon. As he approached the mailboxes, he kept sniffing and staring at a small package with an unfamiliar label. The dog’s owner called out from across the street, but the pup just barked excitedly and tried to carry it off. Just then, a delivery driver happened by and saw the commotion. ‘Hey, pal!’ he called, ‘That’s not for you—it’s for the post office.’ With that, he snatched the package back and popped it into his truck. The little pup looked disappointed but trotted over to his owner, wagging his tail. A neighbor passing by chuckled, ‘Guess he thought it was a new toy!’
3. One day, while mailing a package, a delivery driver asked the postal clerk: ‘Do you ever notice how letters always seem to disappear from here?’ The clerk shrugged and smiled wryly. ‘Letters? They just get lost in the shuffle,’ she said with a wink. The delivery driver shook his head and laughed, realizing it was probably just another East Portland story—full of charm but not necessarily factual.
4. While standing in line at the East Portland Post Office, an elderly gentleman turned to the person behind him and said, 'Did you know that every Wednesday at exactly three o'clock, a small blue bird sings its heart out on the roof of this very building?' The person next to him looked up curiously and replied, ‘Really? I’ve been coming here for years and never heard it.’ Just then, at precisely three o’clock, a tiny blue blur appeared on the roof, chirping away like nothing was unusual. The old man smiled and whispered, ‘Of course not—you’re supposed to come on Thursdays!’