Last week I gave a partial rundown of the negative comments about this column—comments that have arrived through snail mail and e-mail during the past year. This week, I will bask in the accolades.

Readers loved my paean to the Great Smokies during our annual retreat to Maggie Valley, N.C. One wrote:

“I’m still in my pajamas and sock feet, breakfast is still at least an hour away, and already you’ve made me cry, damn it. My heart lies in the hills, and the article brought it all back to me.”

A transplanted Yankee wrote: “Your column today on the serenity of the mountains was a jewel. If I taught English composition, I would use it as an exemplar.”

Political junkies took to my piece on the imagined presidential debate moderated by a fifth-grader who asked such perceptive questions as “What is your favorite food?” and “What is your favorite color?”

Wrote one reader:

“I was trying to come up with something that would add to your ‘debate’ . . . I finally decided that by golly it’s about as good as it can be, you betcha.”

Another chimed in: “One of your best ever. The debate by the precocious fifth-grader should be required reading for all our commentators.”

One of my most painful columns involved the gridiron demolishing of my University of Georgia Bulldogs by the resurgent Alabama Crimson Tide. A Tide fan wrote:

“It was refreshing to read such a well-put-together article in these times of such garbage articles in the media. You gave our team more respect in that article than our own in-state media give us.”

I turned thumbs down on the optional South Carolina automobile tags featuring a cross and stained-glass windows. The column triggered some negative comment, but also this expression of support:

“Thank you again for a brave position on this topic of the religious (Christian) license plate. You must get a lot of harassing mail. How does a Southern guy acquire such clear understanding?”

Folks liked my tribute to Eddy Arnold, the late Tennessee Plowboy, who gave us hits such as “Make the World Go Away.” A reader responded:

“My mother-in-law so much enjoys sitting on the porch of our mountain house and listening to my XM radio. . . . She was sad this week at Arnold’s passing for so many reasons. . . . She loved his music; it reminds her of times gone by, and it reminds her (as it does all of us) that our time is limited.  You are so right: His world won’t go away for her. She just pushes a button, sits back and watches the birds and squirrels, and listens as Eddy sings to her.”

The whimsical pieces also drew favorable responses. This came in after I columnized about the decorations on trailer hitches that resemble the anatomical feature that distinguishes a bull from a steer:

“I am still laughing after reading your piece about the . . . ah . . . ‘decorations’ some guys add to their trailer hitches. I also have had the dubious honor of seeing some of these ornaments myself and had to wonder, ‘Why?’ Thanks for sharing your hilarious insight.”

When I expressed opposition to independence for the Georgian regions of Abkhazia and South Ossetia on grounds that we don’t need two more pipsqueak countries whose names we can neither spell nor pronounce, a reader responded:

“I don’t know if Pulitzers will ever be awarded for smart down-home humor, but you should be first in line. Not only are you funny, but at such an intelligent level.”

Writing a column on Southern life, I inevitably come back to the subjects of kudzu and catfish, prompting responses such as these:

(From York County, S.C.) “Fried kudzu leaves are quite tasty if you don’t get the grease so hot as to char them and get it hot enough to crisp them. We used to batter them in flour, salt and water.”

(From Lancashire, England) “My wife and I have been frequent visitors to the USA (usually with the Southern states being our destination), and have, in fact, just returned from North Carolina, Arkansas and Virginia, and on these visits enjoy catfish, which we find the sweetest fish we have ever had—unfortunately, not available in England.”

We’ve got the catfish and kudzu waiting for you, Gent and Lady. Y’all come back.

Readers may write Gene Owens at 317 Braeburn Drive, Anderson S.C. 29621, or e-mail him at WadesDixieco@aol.com.