It's great once in awhile to hear from a reader, to know that someone somewhere actually opened your story and read it.

Now why would they do that?

One Person did, to my surprise. She had read my Down the Road a Piece I had called The real scoop in the newsroom and reacted to some of the tales of "old days," for me days that occurred in my early days of being a reporter.

Notice I didn't say "good old days," just "old days." Some days were good, others were okay, and some were awful.

I replied to this most encouraging reader, who mirrored Dolores and my feelings about the newspaper's part in our lives (in our case, bringing us together, as we met while working for the same newspaper).

I wrote:

"Thanks for the most interesting e-mail.

"When I began college, my father, a Pennsylvania Railroad official of some type, bought me a rebuilt one along with a typewriter table that had these awful sharp points near -- too near -- my ankles. I used it all through college and during my freelancing days while I was teaching and before I became a reporter.

"I appreciate the gang's coming north to drink and tell lies. Now that I'm retired, I work with tourists and at times explain to them that "truth is over rated." This usually comes while I'm talking to them about being a news reporter of some suspicious origin.

"The picture is great. We've saved it.

"I once did a feature on a retired NYC reporter, the kind who did two-finger banging away on the Underwood. His story made me realize how easy I had it.

"The 'smoking' reporter I fired was one I had had to fight to hire, as the publisher was not at all interested in hiring a recovering alcoholic. The publisher may have had a point, as I believe the high amount of smoking may have been his way of coping with not drinking. That reporter told me I was a great guy when I hired him but a no good somethingorother when I finally let him go after speaking to him several times about the ashes on the keyboard or his being outside a lot with his cigarette.

"'Syracuse' makes me think you must be from New York State, as is my wife, Dolores. Her brother just retired from being the Oneonta City Planner -- or something.

"In high school, an art teacher tried to get me to become an art teacher, but being color blind or color dumb or just plain dumb, whichever it was, prevented that. However, he taught me well in composing drawings, which my first news manager translated into composing news photos as opposed to scenics. At one point while being a stalwart or other kind of reporter, I calculated that I clicked my Minolta 5,000 times a year. Even got a picture or two while doing so. I wore that one out, dropped its identical replacement on the Appalachian Trail and had it repaired. I still use that one and Dolores' old manual Pentax.

"Some day we'll go digital, when the prices for good ones are low enough for us to buy one -- or when the batteries finally go in our film cameras and we open them and find the insides all corroded. Some day.

"Thanks a lot.

"I am always surprised to learn that anybody anywhere reads my dribble."

Milt Gross can be reached for corrections, harassment, or other purposes at lesstraveledway@midmaine.com

Milton M. Gross Copyright 2010

Editorial Footnote: Milt Gross originally included this persons letter in his article but has advised me that the person has since complained about publishing her letter. Even though he was satisfied that she had originally consented, that portion of the article has been removed. R.P. BenDedek Email: rpbendedek@hotmail.com