BUCKING THE SYSTEM: THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY FIRST COLUMN BROUGHT GIFT IN THE MAIL

A few weeks ago I had a nice experience during a biweekly visit with my friendly neighborhood nail tech. As Chantale clucked over my nail-challenged hands, another customer came in to schedule an appointment. She stared at me for a moment, and then she said it.

"You look familiar. Are you any kin to Tamara Zellars Buck them?"

I sort of smiled for a second because I wasn't quite sure who the "them" was in that scenario. Then I told her that I was Tamara Zellars Buck.

It's sort of unnerving how although my picture appears in the paper only once each week, people know me when they see me. On the other hand, although unnerving, it's also nice to be recognized for what you do.

Regardless of whether they're smiling or scowling when they recognize me, I enjoy it when people ask me if I'm "that girl from the paper." I like it even better when they take the time to write and mail letters and cards thanking me for something I've written.

We don't get a lot of praise around the newsroom. Usually we move from story to story, barely even taking the time to read our copy after it's published. Rarely are we contacted by people we've interviewed after the fact about a story -- unless of course, they didn't like the outcome.

It's a fact of life that people will always contact you to complain. We get phone calls everyday from people when they dislike a story or how they were portrayed in a story. What's funny is they'll even call me to complain about stuff I don't deal with.

I usually don't write headlines, and I have nothing at all to do with any other aspect about the paper. Even so, I can count on a morning filled with phone calls when the crossword puzzle answers are missing or a word is misspelled in a headline, or if we stop carrying a particular comic strip.

Interestingly enough, positive phone calls are much fewer in number. It's a gift when someone calls or writes to say "Hey, I liked that piece you did today. Keep up the good work." Usually, I float on air for the rest of the day and make sure everyone knows someone had a nice word for ME today.

A year ago this week I wrote my first column for this paper, and appropriately enough, yesterday I received one of those gifts in the mail. I was making a routine mail slot check when noticed I had received a very large bubble envelope. I checked for a return address -- there wasn't one. There was a Cape Girardeau postmark, but the sender had gone so far as to type a label for my name and address.

I got a little cautious then. I gingerly shook the package after I arrived back at my desk. I don't know what I was thinking -- I guess I though it was a letter bomb or something. Anyway, I didn't find a letter bomb or even poisoness ink. Rather, inside was a typewritten letter and a hardcover book.

A reader known only to me as "A friend" had written to tell me one of my columns had helped her through a tough transitional period. She knew I had a son, so she sent me a book called "Lord Bless My Child: A Keepsake Prayer Journal to Pray for the Character of God in My Child."

Although this person went through great pains to keep his or her identity anonymous, I couldn't do the same with that book. There's no question that I'm not in this for the praise (or the money), but in this instance I had received a gift of immeasurable value.

Whoever you are, thank you. I have received other "gifts" since I began writing for this paper, but your letter and book warmed my heart. You let me know that what I'm doing is not in vain; you also gave me a very humbling pat on the back.

A song performed by Whitney Houston claims "the greatest love of all is inside of me." Thanks, all of you, for touching that part of me an allowing me to share it with you.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.