Existing here, on the cusp of 2006, we are constantly bombarded with information.

What was once not so long ago, weekly updates about current events has evolved into play-by-plays

of real-time happenings as they unfold. Global headlines splash across the daily papers,

neighbors post consistently on community web pages, news stations offer 24-hour programming, YouTubers live stream, and our phones constantly ping as techs flood in from friends and family.

We take live Zoom meetings, FaceTime long-distance lovers, get in fierce comment wars, cycle through emails, and scroll through social media in an endless loop of checking messages

and staying up to date on everything from the political climate to cookie recipes through the

lens of a 4U page. In short, much of the world is interlinked, and this global

connection shows face so frequently and so consistently, it's lost to us just how profound

that is. No one batted an eye when in 2022, after the infamous slap hurt across the world,

was broadcasted on the Oscars, that within

mere seconds, memes had been created and had gone viral by the end of the show. More seriously,

we utilize this interconnectedness to stay informed of the atrocities unfolding beyond our borders

and within them. We have come to expect this level of connectivity,

but that desire is not new. People have always wanted to be in touch, share news, whether it be

joyful, entertaining, or devastating. But for most of our history, we had to do something nearly

unbearable to think of today. We had to wait.

People put quill to parchment or pen to paper and sent messages off into the world via couriers,

birds, ships, trains, and wagons, knowing full well it would be weeks, if not months before their

news was delivered. We have always desired connection,

and not so long ago, in a small but memorable chapter of U.S. history, there was a group of

individuals who straddled their horses, stuffed their saddlebags with mail, and risked their

lives to deliver it. Welcome to National Park After Dark. Yeah, how am I going to live without overnight shipping?

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