Fort Myers Florida Weekly

Contest feeds sixth-place finisher’s lifelong love of writing

2020 WRITING CHALLENGE



“I would have entered 30 stories had I not missed the first round of the contest.” — Barbara Sangiuliano, 2020 Florida Weekly Writing Challenge 6th place winner (Sangiulano submitted 28 entries.)

“I would have entered 30 stories had I not missed the first round of the contest.” — Barbara Sangiuliano, 2020 Florida Weekly Writing Challenge 6th place winner (Sangiulano submitted 28 entries.)

The 2020 Florida Weekly Writing Challenge continues for a few more weeks into the new year as we publish the stories that finished in sixth through 10th place. The first four winners were published Dec. 30, followed by the fifthplace story on Jan. 6. This week we present the sixth-place story, “P.O. Box 54,” by Barbara Sangiuliano of Alva.

A Writing Challenge veteran of the past several years, Ms. Sangiuliano submitted 28 entries in the 10th annual contest, which ran from late April through November and consisted of 30 photo prompts that inspired the creative muses of 196 readers to send us more than 600 stories.

“I would have entered 30 stories had I not missed the first round of the contest,” Ms. Sangiuliano says. “I wasn’t expecting it to begin that early.” (We launched the challenge in August 2010 to provide a distraction from hurricane season and the dog days of summer; we decided to start the 10th annual contest last spring when it became clear that COVID-19 wasn’t going to blow over anytime soon.)

SANGUILIANO

SANGUILIANO

A retired attorney and CPA whose first published work was a poem she composed in elementary school, Ms. Sangiuliano says our photo prompts simply inspired her to do more of what she has always loved to do. “I still write letters to my first-grade teacher and to the pen pal in Madrid I’ve had since 1973,” she says. “Thank goodness for the advent of email.”

The Writing Challenge “really pushes my creative juices,” she says, “although I honestly have no idea where my stories come from.”

As soon as a new prompt appeared in the paper, she’d set up a template for her story “and then go about my day. I’d do my chores around the house, maybe go out on some errands … and at some point, I’d get the big picture for my story.

“Then when I’d sit down to write, it was really just a dump of ideas. The words would come to my fingers and I’d have no idea from where. Before long, I’d have a mess on my hands, always more than the 750 words allowed. Then I’d clean it up and edit it to death.

— The real story behind the prompt: Florida Weekly staff writer Evan Williams took this photo late one night last summer at the Downtown Post Office in Fort Myers. The bright light and rows of boxes seemed “like a shot from ‘2001: A Space Odyssey,’” he says.

— The real story behind the prompt: Florida Weekly staff writer Evan Williams took this photo late one night last summer at the Downtown Post Office in Fort Myers. The bright light and rows of boxes seemed “like a shot from ‘2001: A Space Odyssey,’” he says.

“And that’s it. I guess it’s divine inspiration.”

During her career, Ms. Sangiuliano wrote prolifically, but always in a very business-like style. Since retiring and moving from New Jersey to Alva eight years ago, she has participated in several years of our Writing Challenge. An expanded version of her “Mr. Pickle” entry won an honorable mention in the American Mensa Bulletin annual fiction contest in 2017.

For her reading pleasure, she prefers the classics from Russian literature. “I like how everything is so fully and vividly explained,” she says, “like in ‘War and Peace’ where Tolstoy devotes 10 pages to describing the sitting room.”

Maybe that’s why in her own writing, she admits, “Keeping to a word limit is always a struggle.” ¦

P.O. Box 54

By Barbara Sanguiliano

There is something divine in the order, rules and regulations that are followed at the post office. Every time I enter the post office and glance at the post office box lobby, I am in awe of the organization. I just stare at all those squares; the large and the small, representing smaller post office boxes and larger post office boxes. I have, throughout my whole life, wanted to rent a post office box. Until now, I had no reason to rent a post office box.

Enter Henry, whom I met recently at an antiques show. I was looking at an 18th century English secretary and he was attracted to the same item. What started out as a discussion about our interests in antique furniture unexpectedly ended up being a discussion about our interests in each other. We spent three marvelous days at that antiques show getting to know each other. I found that I liked what I saw, not only in the furniture, but also in Henry.

Henry and I are old souls. We appreciate a handwritten note more than some electronic email. There is something more personal, more substantial, more long lasting in written correspondence than in a text message. Sitting down, with a pen in hand and a blank piece of paper before you, gives you an overwhelming sense of importance about what will be written on that paper. You have time to think, to judge and to write; unlike those ghastly beasts who belt out Twitter messages in the middle of the night without forethought. Henry and I could never do that.

Of course, there is my husband, Albert. Albert and I have, over our 30-plus years of marriage, slowly drifted apart. By now, we have little in common. Albert has been smitten by technology, infatuated with retaining his youth, and obsessed with pursuing girls half his age. He looks ridiculous driving around in a Corvette convertible with his toupee flapping in the breeze.

I take solace in my old soulmate, Henry, and our decision to be discrete in our communications. I wish not to have a text message intact on my cell phone or an email message accidently left open on my computer, available for prying eyes and fodder for legal action. For Henry and me, it is good old-fashioned letters that can be read at one’s discretion and then destroyed at the request of the sender of such letter.

It is, therefore, proper that I do not direct Henry’s mail to my home. That, of course, demands the rental of a post office box. Finally, for the first time in my life, I will rent a post office box.

Today, I enter the post office and go directly into the main lobby. I approach the window in the main lobby and inform the clerk that I wish to rent a post office box. The clerk, scanning the post office box availability list, assigns me Post Office Box 54. In exchange for my rental payment, I receive a sturdy brass key.

Now, feeling entitled and fully participating in the post office box system, I approach Post Office Box 54. I check the functionality of my key and am happy to see that I am able to unlock, open, close and lock the box. I return to the main lobby and jot a quick note to Henry, informing him of my “new address” for our confidential communications. I deposit this letter in the mail slot and return home.

I allow 10 days to pass and then I return to the post office box lobby. There, in Post Office Box 54, is a letter. I quickly unlock the box, remove the letter, lock the box and rush to my car to read the letter. My hands are trembling, anxious to read Henry’s letter.

Henry is truly amazing. He is intelligent, intuitive and imaginative. I smile as I read his eloquent letter. His final paragraph contains the following observation:

“My love, I am truly ecstatic about our new confidential communication plan. I find it amusing that an antiquated system facilitates our amorous endeavors. I have spent a bit of time analyzing our post office box number and discovered that the sum of the numbers representing the position in the alphabet of the letters L + O + V + E equals 54. It is truly destiny that our love is certified by the U.S. Postal Service.”

This looks like the beginning of a beautiful relationship. ¦

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