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Can I just say, I’m touched? So, very, very grateful for your generosity of spirit. You all did such a great job, turning out and commenting on Boy Wonder’s feature. I suspect that it might be a record number of comments on any post over on Modish—and I’m overjoyed that a good portion of those comments were made by my readership. You people know how to represent!

I was greeted this morning by a very chipper boy, “Mom, you’ve got to go see what people are saying! So many nice things! Grammy left a comment AND a designer!!” Evidently, he’d figured out how to access this site and then followed the links. Who wouldn’t, right? It’s not every day that the world sings your praises in print (more often than not, people would rather project negativity!) and reading about yourself in a positive light is ever so lovely. It’s good for you, in limited dosages. And I would wish that experience on each of you at least once or twice in a lifetime.

Some of you excel at providing this kind of recognition. I’m blushing as I type this, because I feel terribly awkward saying, “Hey look, someone is singing my praises over there.” Being tagged with these kinds awards always makes me uncomfortable! I mean, I’m honored and touched and deeply grateful for the kind words—but then the rules of such blog awards require that you in turn tag more people. And you know, I just can’t bring myself to choose! I can’t. Instead, I will point you to my readership! If you want an example of excellence, you simply have to click on any link from any commenter…

I am sincere with my gratitude. As you know, I’ve recently felt the dark side of the blogging world, so the timing of all this positive attention is a gift in itself. As it turns out, my detractors have not been content to be silently lurking, but actually write bile on the internet. Sadly, not just about me. I am always astounded, that when given the opportunity to raise your voice and be heard, a person might choose to profess such ugliness. The internet has provided an outlet for so many people to be heard… and I cannot wrap my brain around a choice for something other than beauty, truth, love, compassion, or justice.

It’s not to say, that we don’t have real stories of terrible pain. But there is a significant difference between writing our truths and churning out hatred. It’s the worst school playground experience magnified for the whole world to see. The internet does not forgive, nor does it forget. What we write in these personal spaces has the potential to outlive not only its usefulness to us, but our very selves. While what we write may not be a reflection of our whole selves, it is a reflection of a part of us. For future generations, it may be the ONLY reflection seen. And I don’t know about you, but I want my great-grandchildren to feel a sense of who I was when they read these words. I want them to respect that I was a person who cared enough about my world to ACT in my world. I want to leave a record of the beauty that can be found, the excellence that can be experienced, and the joy that I have known just being here.

So, for your part in this record. . . thank you. Each of you has stepped up in your own way—it does not go unnoticed. For your beautiful contributions to both this site and what you individually write on your own—words are not enough to express my gratitude.

Thank you.