Last week I allowed readers to air their beefs against the columns of 2009. This week, as is my custom, I will allow the praises to flow.

The columns that drew the greatest response from readers were those that dealt with the culture of the Southern textile mills.

As one reader summed it up:

“I am certain God put those of that generation through the Depression and lean times to temper their resolve. Without their hardened lives, many certainly would not have survived the terrible situations they found themselves in throughout the two theaters of war. In retrospect, it was a great time in my life, and I thank each person that brushed lint out of their hair and washed the dye off their hands. So when someone asks, ‘Where did you grow up?’ I proudly respond, ‘In the mill village and proud of it.’”

Several readers expressed sympathy for Lula Mae Battle, the octogenarian who was arrested for relieving herself in a public park in Mobile after her bank refused to allow her to use its restroom and her incontinence overtook her before she could reach the park’s public rest room. The charges were later dropped.

“I hope all the people in Mobile who have been so critical of that poor lady end up with prostate problems for the men and early incontinence for the women,” wrote a Tennessee reader.

My paean to newspapers after some venerable ones folded evoked a number of responses.

“I shall remain old-fashioned enough to want my morning paper with my coffee, even though I may have read every article on the Web the night before,” wrote a faithful reader. “I need it. That’s a pleasure of life that shall continue.”

“Amen, Brother Gene,” another chimed in. “While I have the right to get @#^%& mad at my paper, I can hold, fold, rip, read and react. With CNN, Fox, et al, my current mode of reaction is the mute button.”

Dog lovers were pleased with the column I wrote on my drive from South Carolina to Texas in the company of Candi, my elderly Peke-a-poo. One North Carolina reader recalled it along with an earlier column on Stump, the 10-year-old Sussex Spaniel, who was named top dog in the prestigious Westminster Kennel Club’s dog show at Madison Square Garden. Stump’s achievement had brought to mind Tom T. Hall’s song, “Old Dogs and Children and Watermelon Wine.”

“I always enjoy your column,” wrote the Tar Heel, “but never more than today as I sat drinking coffee with my 15-year-old Yorkie and his 6-year-old sister. Like Candi, Nemo is slowing down considerably, sleeps more, sometimes forgets his manners in the house. But his love is huge … I join you in raising a glass of watermelon wine to Stump, to Candi, to Nemo … and to old dogs everywhere.”

My piece on the pros and cons of bachelorhood — written during one of Miss Peggy’s absences to mind our grandson, Chase, in Marietta, Ga. — touched responsive chords, too. After rehearsing all the advantages of living alone, I concluded:

“I don’t feel lonely when sipping a beer in solitude. Wine is something else. When there’s a glass of wine in front of you, there’s supposed to be another glass across the table in the hands of someone you love. Sipping wine without companionship is like reaching across the bed and feeling a cold pillow instead of a warm body.”

“There I was enjoying every advantage you presented about having the house to yourself,” wrote one reader. “You built your case beautifully, and I could even hear the chants and jubilation as we neared the finish line. I was sure the banner would read, ‘Hurray for space and freedom from nagging.’ Lo and behold, you were reaching across the cold pillow for a warm body. And anticipating picking her up!”

On a more poignant note: “I smiled, I shook my head, then I teared up (with the cold pillow part). My husband was career military, so I spent quite a bit of time alone … But then came the time when he didn’t come home ‘from the field,’ and all that was left was the cold pillow, which smelled like him and got hugged for many months, just for the smell. Bachelorhood, widowhood — they both stink!”

My companion column on English grammar and usage drew some kind words.

“Your light touch delivers messages dear to the hearts of word lovers without the scolding and ranting that I sometimes want to do,” wrote one fan of good English.

“I teach English courses at Faulkner State Community College (Fairhope) and Faulkner University (Mobile),” wrote a Baldwin County reader. “I thought you’d be interested to know that I give students extra credit if they analyze your column. … I’ve used it when writing a couple of the four books I’ve had published. … I appreciate your humor. It’s effective.”

My tribute to the late Robert Bell, a promising high-school classmate who grew up to be a successful lawyer, drew applause from beyond Robert’s immediate community. Wrote a Randleman, N.C., reader:

“In my opinion, your tribute to your old friend Robert Bell was your best yet.”

And finally, from a reader in Aiken, S.C., the kind of tribute guaranteed to give an old linthead a swelled head:

“You are a historian, sociologist, humorist, sage and judicious observer of significant value to those of us who have the benefit of your articles. Keep up the good work.”

I’m gonna try, Good Sir.

Readers may write Gene Owens at 315 Lakeforest Circle, Anderson SC 29625, or e-mail him WadesDixieco@AOL.com