‘Tis true, my friends, these are the last of my words you'll be reading on the Almanac page. Even though this column has been a major highlight of my year, like all good things, it must come to an end.
That's why I'm using my final one to tell you readers how much I appreciate you. Your e-mails have made my Mondays for the past eight months. And what brought me more happiness than compliments was knowing I had struck a cord compelling some of you to tell me your own stories.
I think it's time you guys got a little recognition. Here are some of your words....
In response to my column regarding my negligent brother: ""None [of my siblings] have showed any interest in visiting me and barely acknowledged my presence when I returned home for the summer. Where's the gratitude for all the hard work that folks like you and I have done in the role model department? It's seems as if our efforts have gone grotesquely underappreciated.""
In response to my war with the downstairs neighbors: ""One Friday afternoon at about four o'clock, the neighbors called the cops on us because we were too loud. The cops came and actually laughed with us because it was a Friday afternoon and no alcohol/fighting was involved, we were actually watching Jeopardy. However, one neighbor was studying for a test, which makes me wonder why she even goes to Madison.""
In response to the Mac Genius judging me for getting a bootlegged ""Peter Pan"" stuck in my laptop, and what happened when this reader took his computer to DoIT: ""There was ‘Like an animal' by Nine Inch Nails, ‘Walking in Memphis' by Marc Cohen, ‘Wouldn't it be lovely' by Julie Andrews, and horror of all horrors, a complete, unvisited file of hits from ‘Dawson's Creek' that a friend's little sister had installed on a flash drive I had borrowed.""
But I may have also rubbed a few wrong along the way. One reader believed I reinforced the idea women don't belong in the workplace in one of my first pieces on the hell of periods. ""Chalking up your desire to push roommates down stairs and such to your hormonal fluxes may be an easy out—but if it is the case you may benefit from counseling, because that is not your uterus talking."" Ah, the good ole days.
Then there were messages like this: ""Oh and if you are ever in need of a good time in the most sailoresque sense of the word feel free to let me know! Rar!"" Yeah, I'm still not quite sure what to make of this one.
E-mails have also included individuals explaining their Chipotle-dominates-Qdoba campaign, a lunch with Jeremy Piven and how Wisconsin hasn't changed a bit since their student days years back. The topics were wide in range, but I cherished them equally.
I may be violating some journalistic code by writing a column about writing a column, but I felt the need to share my thoughts with you while I still could. And I love to write by nature but—like anyone in the porn industry will say—it means most when you know someone else out there is appreciating your art.
So thank you for taking part in this two-way dialogue with me involving your stories, views and life, in general. You have certainly become a part of mine.
Any last words for Julia? E-mail her at shiplett@wisc.edu. It might not get into the paper, but she would still love to hear from you.
