My Chocolate Graham Crackers are missing. They were to arrive last week, and I fear they have been taken by the snack mafia or a swarm of marauding hornets, both of which have been blamed for stealing the last of my M&Ms and Oreos.

Before I begin, I must add a disclaimer to this unfortunate tale. Although they were to be delivered via US mail, I will not blame the post office. Too often, the institution gets a bad rap, and I, for one, have always held it in high regard. After all, who deliberately carries a sack of ads for cable television, solar panels, Liberty Mutual offers, termite control, gutter cleaners, incontinence supplies and aluminum siding around in the sweltering heat, or through freezing snow drifts when even the taverns have to close early?

Their motto, “Neither rain, nor snow, nor Louis DeJoy can stay these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds,” is chiseled in gray granite over the entrance to the New York City Post Office. It’s not a new mantra. It comes from the book about the Persian War, when they were fighting with the Greeks way back in 500 B.C.

The author of the familiar phrase, Herodotus, was the first to ride his postal service horse around to deliver ads for what must have been stone siding, ancient pottery look-alikes and fancy rugs. He is also called “the father of history” for chronicling all things really old, and his keen ability to remember where everyone lived.

Last year, I subscribed to the postal service’s Daily Digest, which alerts me to the mail pieces and packages I can expect for the day. Often, there is a picture of what’s to be delivered, so I can prepare myself for the chance to purchase a host of items I don’t want or need. Sadly, these unsolicited mailings go directly into my recycling basket, making the circle of life possible for such information.

I find it interesting that the postal service is tasked with carrying around tons of recycling material I then carry to my large recycling bin for the giant recycling truck to pick up every other Monday. If I am correct, this all gets sorted by hand, put into bales and transported by more giant trucks to companies that shred it into pulp and sell it on to be made into more advertisements for Medicare Advantage products and collectable gold coins featuring the likeness of Herodotus. Or Buddy Ebsen.

But, back to the crackers. My good friend Barbara put me onto a tasty, low-calorie snack that uses Chocolate Graham Crackers and Cool Whip. I’ve been dieting of late, which really means I’ve been dieting for the last 50 years, having lost and gained a total of 642 pounds over that time. To prepare the treat, you need Chocolate Graham Crackers, which have become almost extinct. They are absent from grocery shelves in the 100 or so stores I’ve searched, and are only available, in very limited quantities, on the internet. Why this product is so scarce is a puzzle, as I have not seen it on JFK Jr’s list of foodstuffs to be banished. At least, not yet.

Having located a box of now-rare crackers on the World Wide Web, I placed my order and waited for the package to arrive. Days went by. Then weeks. I began to get messages that my order had been shipped. Then delayed. Then shipped. Then delayed. I eagerly waited for my Daily Digest message for good news. Each time, the box of beloved crackers appeared in the message, filling me with hope, only to be dashed with nothing on my doorstep. Finally, the message read “delivered!” As I rushed to the porch, with Cool Whip in hand, expecting to find my order, I saw only empty steps. Clutching my chest in despair, I searched the bushes and looked under my hostas for signs of crumbs and cardboard that may have been left by the sneaky neighborhood squirrels that roam my yard and irritate the cat. Nothing. My heart sank.

Checking the mailbox for any letters and the usual ads for window, door and siding offers, I retrieved a Priority Mail envelope addressed to me from some company called LOSTORE in Hanover, Maryland. Across the bottom of the label was the tracking number for my crackers. Inside was a business card-sized note, printed in fancy font that read “beyond grateful – thank you so much.” There was even a little heart next to the message. Contacting LOSTORE was of no avail. They are connected directly to the job search company, INDEED. If they stole my crackers, were they serving them during applicant interviews?

A puzzle indeed. The nice young man at the Galva Post Office was just as perplexed. He hinted that there might be fraud afoot and suggested that I contact the postal inspector. The website is quite impressive, with its own motto, “The Postal Inspection Service is standing guard and ready to help.” The site has a whole page devoted to how to avoid scams, and a large number of real-life reports of mail fraud and other postal transgressions. Did you know that the Postal Service has its very own police force?

I learned that the Mail Fraud Statute was the first consumer protection law. In addition, the US Postal Service uncovered the first Ponzi scheme to hit the country. After perusing the site, I now know there are such things as “money mules,” along with grandparent scams, mystery shopper scams and psychic scams. Pyramid scams also headed the list, making me realize that such things must have been prevalent among the ancient Egyptians.

However, there was nothing that addressed graham cracker misadventures. There are stories of how the Old West bank and train robbers were caught and ridden off to jail. There is also an account of a 500-pound Englishman arrested for stealing $56,000,000 from over 3,000 Americans via phony investments. He was extradited to the US by a flatbed truck, a scissor lift and a military cargo plane. It was said to be one of the “biggest heists ever,” by those in the know, perhaps on several levels.

There is a lot of information on mail fraud and how to protect yourself from being scammed. Except there is none addressing cracker crime. I thought I found it, until I looked more closely to read, “Medical Fraud and Quackery.” Close, but no cigar. Or Grahams.

But back to my investigation. Clark Barksdale is the Postal Inspector for the country. He’s a formidable-looking fellow, and after reading his bio, I realized that complaining about my stolen Grahams might be a wee bit beneath him. Instead, I sent some firm, plain-speaking messages to the big box store from which I ordered the crackers.

To their credit, a human finally responded, with the email message that my order had been “misplaced,” and would be solved accourding [sic] to my wishes. After several more exchanges, I was assured I’d get a replacement with an exceedingly succinct “np.” Of course, that was over a week ago, so I’m thinking I might threaten them with a call to Mr. Barksdale. Perhaps I am getting my order via one of the “money mules” they confiscated in one of their thousands of arrests. That is, unless the mule eats them.

In August, the United States Postal Service will be 247 years old. Thanks to Ben Franklin, we have had a continued service that is almost as old as the US. The Postal Service estimates the average mail carrier has 500-600 delivery points, spending between five to seven hours delivering mail each day at an average walking pace of three mph. All this while carrying up to 35 pounds of mail. Rural carriers are said to walk more miles than their urban counterparts, because houses and businesses are often spread farther apart. In my town, that can mean up to fifteen miles a day.

The year I was born, 1948, the postal service delivered 115,554,921 pieces of mail, all led by Herodotus. Last year, our carriers brought 112,500,000,000 to our doors. Holy Mail Bag, Batman!

When my 40-year-old parents sent out my birth announcements, they spent three cents on each stamp (it’s been purported that they printed “surprise!” on the envelope, as I was one of those unexpected “joys” some parents experience later in life).

I learned that stamps are taking a hike in price as I write this column. Because my hobby is making greeting cards, I do hope stamps will still be a regular purchase for most.

For now, give your carrier a smile and a wave when they visit your mailbox, and maybe serve him or her some celebratory cake in August. Or Chocolate Graham Crackers if you are lucky enough to have them.

In the meantime, I’m looking out for my errant package. Do wish me luck. My Cool Whip is melting.