RIVER CITY JOURNAL: A THOUSAND WORDS ARE WORTH A PICTURE, RIGHT?

The best part of writing a column is thinking someone out there is reading it. Or finding an old photo to share with you.

Occasionally, readers of this column tell me they like a particular column. This lets me know there are a few loyal readers in addition to my wife and mother. From time to time, readers provide additional information or a tidbit for a future column.

Like two weeks ago when I remembered the baptisms of years gone by in Black River over in the Ozarks where I grew up.

Within just a few days, Nelda Crader of Advance, who teaches with my wife and who read the column in our sister newspaper, the Dexter Daily Statesman, brought a postcard featuring a small photograph of a river baptism in progress. I am pleased to show this postcard to you, my true-blue readers.

The postcard/photo was found by Nelda's husband, Jack Crader, in one of those mystery boxes sold at auctions. You know, the kind where the auctioneer suggests an original copy of the Gettysburg Address might be lurking, just waiting to be discovered by some lucky bidder.

For Jack Crader, finding this postcard/photo was almost as good. You see, the handwritten inscription says the baptism occurred about 1918 at Allenville. That's where Jack grew up, and all of his relatives were baptized in the Diversion Channel at Allenville, which is about 18 miles west of Cape Girardeau.

So, for Jack, the photo is a bit of personal history, frozen forever on a piece of cardboard, thanks to the steady lens of some unknown photographer.

From the looks of the photograph, it was a pretty cold day for being dunked in the water, religion or no religion. The trees have no leaves. From what I can make out, people are wearing coats, not shirtsleeves. And there are three men, apparently waiting for the power of the Holy Spirit, who are hunched over in a way that suggests a bit of frost in the air.

It would be fascinating to know more details about this event of nearly 90 years ago. Perhaps someone out there in readerland can tell us more. Please do.

And thanks, Jack and Nelda, for sharing this with me and the readers of this column.

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This column has provided some other connections with readers, Recently I had an opportunity to meet one of those readers who, it turns out, has scheduled me for a speaking engagement in 1998. Talk about good planning.

Back before Memorial Day this year, I got a call from a reader in Des Arc, which is the tiny town nearest to Brushy Creek, the valley where my mother's family is from.

Lots of folks in Cape Girardeau are either from the Des Arc area or know about it because of weekend trips to that part of the Ozarks.

Anyway, this nice woman from Des Arc said my name had been suggested as a speaker at the annual Memorial Day gathering at the Des Arc cemetery. I remember attending one of those events when I was a child, and I recall stump-thumping patriotic speeches that lasted a long time.

I said I would love to speak, but my wife and I already had committed to being in the Kansas City area for Memorial Day. Maybe another time, I suggested.

Well, at the visitation for my stepfather a couple of weeks ago, my mother introduced me to the woman, Jeanette "Birdie" Parker. "I've got you down for Memorial Day in 1998," she said.

Talk about having plenty of time to get ready.

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Finally, thanks to all of you who have told me at one time or another that you not only read this column, you actually enjoy it -- at least some of the time.

One of my best encounters was at a store here in Cape Girardeau. A woman came up to me and said, "You're that fellow who writes in the newspaper, aren't you?" Of course, my chest swelled with pride, even though it was clear she couldn't remember my name.

"Yes," I said, "I'm Joe Sullivan."

"No, not him," came the reply, "that other one."

Talk about getting your head on straight.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.