We have a sweet old gummy granny who occasionally sends us cute little letters wrought in exquisite lilac penmanship, filling us in on her knitting adventures or about the music box she just found at the church sale. Each one of these letters usually arrives emblazoned with a five cent stamp from 1967, followed by a nearly endless postage ellipsis of thirty-four penny stamps, each one clearly issued in a separate year. The supposed value of the postage our grandmother’s withered tongue affixed to the envelope? Thirty nine cents. Actual inflationary value? Probably a million dollars.