Pontyclown
(July 6, 2009)

The details are consequentialthat I somehow found myself one beautiful spring Saturday morning, wandering through the fairgrounds enjoying the sunshine. It was here I discovered a small sign reading “Free Stamp Show”.

I decided to attend the show. Not because I had never been to a stamp show (although this was true) but more importantly – the stamp show would surely have a washroom.

Sure enough, I was right, yet again. After powdering my pretty nose in the ladies room, I decided to make an appearance at the stamp show.

It was unlike any trade show I had ever attended. First, it was eerily quiet. No music. No announcer. Only silence. Second no one was standing, everyone sitting, tongs in hand, searching through pages upon pages of stamps. As I scanned the hall, I realised every person was over the age of 65. Every person but two – yours truly and a handsome guy at the far end.

Quickly (before he realised the boringness of a stamp show and left) I approached the only other person in the hall born after the invention of television.

“Suzy?”
“Hew?”

My fellow underager was my friend Hew.

“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the stamp show auction. You?”
“Free washroom.”
“Suzy, you haven’t changed a bit.”

We chatted as we wandered the show together. After catching up on old times, the topic turned to the auction.

“So, do you collect stamps Hew?”
“Not really, I collect post marks – actually only one postmark in particular.”

“What’s a postmark?”
“A postmark is the mark placed over a stamp by the post office when the stamp is mailed. Usually the mark lists the date it was mailed as well as the place it was mailed from.”

“So why collect postmarks?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m at a stamp show on a Saturday – I obviously have time to kill.”

“As you know, my family is from Wales.”
“Wales? Isn’t that just part of England?”
“No! Don’t say such vulgar things.”

“Anyway, I’m Welsh. My great-great-grandparents immigrated to Canada in 1888 from Pontyclun, Wales.”
“Cool.”
“Uncool. They were forced to leave their homeland by embarrassment.”
“It’s that Welsh for harassment?”
“No, it’s Canadian for embarrassment.”

“You see my great-great-grandfather was the local postmaster. One of his duties was postmarking the stamps. One day he received a new postmark from the Royal Mail. For a month, he did his duty, stamping all outgoing mail from Pontyclun with the new poststamper.
Eventually people replied to the outgoing letters. Each reply wrote that the postmark did not say Pontyclun but rather Pontyclown.”

I laughed.

“Hmm... exactly. Anyway, included in each reply was a joke at the villager’s expense.
“Did you great-great-grandfather do it intentionally?”

“Absolutely not! It was a misprint at the Royal Mail postmark stamper factory. My great-great-grandfather felt horrible about the incident. He felt like he had let down not only the town but the villagers as well.”
The villagers forgave him but the guilt was too much.

“So he moved to Canada?”
“No, at first he tried to stay in Wales but every time he mentioned his hometown, the Pontyclown jokes commenced. He thought the incident had not spread across the pond to Canada.”

“Was he right?”
“Yes, until the 1920’s when stamp collecting became a legitimate hobby. The Pontyclown story became the stuff of stamp collecting legends. A Pontyclown postmark became the must-have status symbol for the true collector. ”

“I assume there is one at today’s auction.”
He concurred with my impressive logic.

“So you are going to buy it as a family heirloom?”
“No, I’m going to buy it and destroy it. It’s an embarrassment to the family. For generations, my family has been buying Pontyclown postmarked collections for the sole purpose of destroying them.”

To pass the time until the auction, Hew educated me in all things Wales---the history, the geography, the language and for some odd reason, the soccer teams.

“For someone who is bitter at Wales, you certainly know a lot about it.”
“I’m not bitter at Wales. I’m not even bitter at Pontyclun. In fact, their football team has my favourite club motto “Gorau Chwarea Chwarau Cyd”- the best players play together. No, I’m not bitter – I just want to erase a painful chapter of my family’s history.”

The auction finally began. After many stamps, the Pontyclown postmark was on the auction block. It was about time!

The bidding was rancid however, one by one the senior citizens folded – no doubt limited by their fixed incomes. Hew’s last opponent was another young person at the show. How did I not see the other fellow underager earlier?

The bidding became intense – each immediately raising the bid. Finally, Hew turned to the person.

“Let’s stop bidding against ourselves. I’ll buy it and we’ll decide who keeps it after.”
To the auctioneer’s disgust, the other bidder agreed.

“What are you doing Hew?”
“Don’t worry Suzy. I’ve done this before. Once I tell my family story, they understand and give up the postmark. Always have. Always will. It’s the last line that seals the deal every time.”

We sat next to the other bidder. Hew told his story, then concluded with his last line.
“So you see it’s not just a postmark for some collection. It’s a piece of my family history.”

“Me too!” cried the man.
“Me too what?” said a stunned Hew.

“It’s not just a postmark for some collection either. It’s a piece of my family history as well!”

“Are you guys related?”I asked.

“No. My name is Morgan. My great-great grandfather lived in Pontyclun as well – but after your great great-grand-parents left the village.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because my great-great- grandfather came to Pontyclun in 1889 to apologise to the village and also to your great-great-grandfather.”

“Am I the only one who is not following?” I inquired.
“My great great grandfather was the man who made the Pontyclown postmark stamper.”

I felt like I was getting a suntan from the amount of heat Hew’s cheeks of rage were illuminating.
“Your great-great-grandfather was the stamper maker? He caused so much pain. It was one of the worst moments of my family’s history. You want to keep something that caused so much pain to my family. What type of person are you?”

“It may have caused your family pain but it was the turning point for my family.”
“How?” I asked.

“My great-great-grandfather did not have a lot going for him when he worked for the Royal Mail. He was alone with a dead end job making postmark stampers. When news of the Pontyclown postmark spread to his superiors, he was instantly fired. He felt so bad that he used his savings to travel to Pontyclun to apologise in person to your great-great-grandfather and the villagers.

He was ever so disappointed to have missed your great-great-grandfather but he did apologise to each villager. My great-great-grandfather, cap in hand, knocked on every single Pontyclun door to offer his apology. On the third last door on High Street, a beautiful young woman answered the door. Within a year, she would be my great-great-grandmother. He spent the remainder of his life in Pontyclun, eventually becoming an alderman.”

“You see, without the Pontyclown postmark stamper, they never would have met. The Pontyclown story created my family. So, yes indeed, the postmark is a part of my family.”

Hew sat in silence.

“I want to have the postmark as a remembrance to the beginning of my family.”

Hew still remained in silence. It was obvious he was not going to give up the postmark.

“Hew, what was that Welsh saying you told me was the Pontyclun soccer team’s motto?”
“Gorau Chwarae Chwarau Cyd.”replied Hew.
“And what does it mean again?”
“It means The best players play together.” Morgan replied.
“Surely, you guys can work together.”

Hew looked up at us. From his cheeks, I knew he would do the right thing. He would give Morgan the postmark.
“Dos i chwarae efo dy nain Suzy TooToo, this is the last time I attend a Stamp Show with you!”