By Jessie Mangaliman
Washington Post Staff Writer
The Washington Post - Saturday, February 13, 1999; Page B01
"I usually don't worry about it," she said, trying to rub the smudges from her fingers. "But I've got to work on my granddaughter's white christening dress tonight."
Cupid's red ink is on her hands at this time every year, when lovers from across the globe seek the postmark of the town whose name embodies the holiday -- Loveville, Md.
The tradition in this small farming community is a fitting tribute to its namesake, Kingsley Love, the town's first postmaster.
For the 30 years that Hall has worked at Loveville's post office, people have flocked to this town of about 3,000 people to get their letters postmarked for Valentine's Day. Ten years ago, Hall decided to do something to brighten the holiday. And thus, the Loveville valentine postmark -- a mop-topped and winged Cupid shooting his arrow into a heart -- was born.
By midday today, Hall and her clerk, Kathy Austin, expect to have stamped 30,000 pieces of mail, many of them in pink and red envelopes. Just off Route 5 in St. Mary's County, Loveville's rural post office is temporarily located in a beige 33-foot trailer set on concrete blocks in a farm field planted with winter grass.
A hand-lettered sign on the box outside the post office promises, "Every piece of mail dropped in this box will receive the special Valentine's postmark."
The bulk of the holiday mail came from visitors from the District, Pennsylvania, Virginia and other parts of Maryland. The rest was mailed by sentimentalists from all over the United States, as well as France, England and Japan. Last week, two buses of senior citizens drove in from Baltimore, as they have done for years, Hall said.
"It shows affection, that you'd go out of your way to show it," said Walter Cooper, a mechanic from Fort Washington in Prince George's, who drove 50 miles to get the red postmark of Cupid stamped on the valentine he sent to his wife and son.
"It says it came from Loveville," said Emily Hall, a retired secretary who mailed valentines to her daughter in Tokyo. "Love-ville," she repeated, to make it perfectly clear.
For the occasion, the post office trailer is adorned with everything Valentine's: a pillow heart on the door, a red heart on a window, red and white heart-shaped paper doilies around the mailbox and mail drop, and above the counter where Eva Hall sells "Love" stamps and weighs mail, a "Be My Valentine" banner.
No one smirks in embarrassment, being surrounded by so much mush. Hall and Austin, wearing heart brooches, have embraced their mission.
"You know, it does take a long time to get [the letters] all out," said Hall, 48, failing in her attempt to complain. "If the seniors from Baltimore would drive two hours to get a Loveville postmark, I'd stay five minutes to do it for them."
Indeed, by week's end, Hall will have put in 70 to 80 hours of work, staying open through lunch hour, catching bites between postage purchases and stamping Cupid. After closing, the rhythmic, monotonous stamping of the mail will continue -- until it's all done.
A normal day's worth of mail -- about 400 pieces or so -- fills a three-foot paper box. Throughout the Valentine's season, Hall and Austin have stamped 10 to 11 trays of letters a day. Last year, they postmarked 30,000 pieces of mail.
By comparison, Loveland, Colo., the self-proclaimed Valentine's capital of the United States, did as many in one day last week, and will postmark 200,000 letters by Feb. 14.
About 85 miles south of Richmond, Valentine, Va., is expecting to rubber-stamp special Valentine's Day "cachets," but not postmarks, on 38,000 pieces of mail. In Loving, Tex., postal workers were expecting several hundred pieces of Valentine's Day mail.
"It's going to be a normal year for us," said William R. Wright, the postmaster of Valentine, Va., who has been postmaster for 48 years.
As it will be in Loveville, Hall said, reflecting on her impulse 10 years ago "to do something special," thus giving birth to the Loveville Cupid.
"I don't know if I was sane for doing that or not," she said, chuckling wryly.
© Copyright 1999 The Washington Post Company
