What do Eleftherios Venizelos Airport, JFK, the Social Security Administration, YouTube, Dr. Ed Weir, PhD, former Social Security manager, and a room full of Greeks complaining have in common?
One envelope.
More specifically, one envelope containing Form SSA-7162—the United States government’s polite way of asking Americans living abroad:
Are you still alive?
And, if so, could you please prove it on paper?
As expats receiving Social Security, Karen and I have learned—the hard way—that every year or two, depending on some mysterious governmental rotation, we must complete this questionnaire and send it back.
Name.
Address.
Signature.
Yes, we are alive and well.
Please continue paying us.
Easy-peasy.
Not so fast.
Can we submit it electronically?
No.
Can we deliver it to the Federal Benefits Unit at the American Embassy in Athens?
Still no.
Can we mail it to the Federal Benefits Unit in Athens?
Also no.
The form must travel all the way back to the Social Security Administration in Pennsylvania.
By mail.
From Greece.
Now, ELTA is perfectly capable of delivering an envelope to the United States.
The only uncertainty is whether it will arrive this year, next year, or after the recipient has moved into assisted living.
We once mailed a postcard from Kalamata in March for a friend’s birthday in Bozeman, Montana, in April.
It arrived in time for Christmas.
So naturally, we considered using a courier.
Problem solved.
Except the return address supplied by Social Security was a post-office box, and courier companies do not deliver to post-office boxes.
Fortunately, before artificial intelligence, there was:
Athanassiadis Intelligence.
A.I.
Some online detective work uncovered a physical street address for the Social Security office in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.
Hidden in plain sight.
Now we were getting somewhere.
I researched courier companies and discovered that ELTA Courier appeared to offer two international services: Express Mail Service—EMS—and Special Priority Mail—SPM.
Even better, the ELTA Courier website specifically said that shipments to the United States were restricted to documents.
Perfect.
We had documents.
The temperatures had finally moderated, so Karen and I walked down to the ELTA Courier office on Filellinon Street, wishing:
Καλημέρα (kalimera)
Good morning
to our neighbors along the way.
The lovely woman behind the counter looked at the envelope.
Then she looked at me.
“Yes, we used to send things to the United States.”
Used to?
“But not anymore.”
“But your website says you accept documents.”
“No. We cannot send it.”
“Not even documents?”
“No.”
Perhaps the website and the office were no longer speaking to each other.
“Maybe ask at ELTA,” she suggested.
Oh boy.
Fortunately, the regular ELTA post office was on our way home.
Unfortunately, this was Greece, which meant I first had to take a number.
Yes, I am still in Greece.
I did not accidentally relocate while walking down Filellinon Street.
I took my ticket.
And waited.
And waited.
Around me, a roomful of Greeks had already begun providing unsolicited commentary on the wait, the staffing, the government, and probably several subjects I couldn’t hear from my chair.
Remember them.
They get the halftime show.
The take-a-number system also reminded me of the first time I encountered one during my first visit to the United States in 1980.
Ding.
Number 61.
“It’s me! It’s me!” I announced, as though I had just won the lottery instead of earning the right to approach a postal counter.
I explained what I needed.
“EMS? SPM?”
The clerk stared at me.
Apparently, EMS and SPM were Greek to a Greek.
“Do you need a signature when it arrives?”
“Yes!”
“I can mark it as priority and add international tracking, but it will travel as regular mail.”
Expedited regular mail.
A uniquely Mediterranean category.
There was one reassuring detail.
ELTA would begin the journey in Kalamata and carry our envelope out of Greece. Once it reached the United States, USPS would become ELTA’s American partner and make the final delivery to Pennsylvania.
Same envelope.
Same tracking number.
A clean handoff.
Greece would take the opening leg.
America would bring it home.
What could possibly go wrong?
The Social Security Administration had mailed the form on July 2.
We received it in Kalamata on July 20.
Eighteen days of our sixty-day response period had already been enjoyed by the postal system.
We completed the form and, the next morning, took it to ELTA.
Would it reach Pennsylvania before Social Security’s clock expired—or before someone concluded that Karen and I had already reached our final resting place?
Who knew?
Perhaps it would race across the Atlantic.
Perhaps it would stop somewhere for coffee.
Perhaps it would join our Bozeman postcard and arrive around Christmas.
The clerk handed me the receipt.
After considerable detective work, I found the tracking number.
It had been printed in a typeface apparently selected by the Kalamata Association of Ophthalmologists.
Take a close look at the original receipt.
See whether you can find it.
Hint: look near the bottom beneath:
BARCODES ΣΥΝΑΛΛΑΓΗΣ (barcodes synallagis)
Transaction barcodes
Should you still fail, I know a friendly ophthalmologist in Kalamata.
On the morning of July 21, our envelope officially entered the ELTA system.
Status: Accepted in Kalamata.
Destination: Social Security Administration, Pennsylvania.
Mission: Prove that Karen and Nick were still alive.
The players were now on the field.
Kalamata had possession.
Eleftherios Venizelos Airport was waiting upfield.
JFK was farther ahead.
And somewhere beyond that, Pennsylvania was the goal.
But just before kickoff, there was one more complication.
A video posted in August 2025 by Dr. Ed Weir, PhD, a former Social Security manager, suggested that our envelope might never have needed to leave Kalamata at all.
No courier.
No stamp.
No ELTA.
No waiting for the Second Coming.
Could that possibly be true?
We would find out.
But first, the referee checked his watch.
The players took their positions.
And the match was starting. (to be continued…)
Discussion
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