Last week, attention was focused on the negative comments generated by this column during the past year.

Apparently, I was on my good behavior, because the positive comments far outnumbered the negative. This week, I’m offering a sampling of the positive:

One reader warmed my innards with this observation: “I’ve read your stuff for years and admire your Southern guts.”

A reader of World War II vintage from way up in Nebraska sent the kind of accolade most columnists love after reading my column on the Japanese tsunami and our changing attitude toward Japan: “Lord, Lord, how I agree with you.”

“I was in the Army in World War II,” wrote another old-timer, “and the metamorphosis in our attitude toward Japan is gratifying.”

Wrote another reader: “If more people had the same feelings, we would all be so much more complete in our paths on this earth. I am going to cut it out and ask each of my children and grandchildren to read it, then talk to me about their thoughts.”

I wrote a column criticizing the substitution of “slave” for the “n-word” in Mark Twain’s writing, and readers were supportive. One wrote:

“If I were on the … Board of Education, I would make your weekly column required reading for the high-school English/literature class. And the history students could also learn a lot from your writings. You were right on once again. Your outlook and means of expressing yourself are so refreshing. Long live Huck Finn, that future generations may learn of the true times in which we once lived and which shaped what we have become.”

Since I wrote a column about the literal meaning of the word “decadent,” I haven’t seen it used a single time in the commercials of the seafood restaurant that once served it up regularly. Perhaps its advertising people now “seafood differently.” One reader wrote: “I am compelled to tell you that your decadent column … has moved me in an extraordinary fashion, for I, too, am saddened each time a Mayfield Ice Cream, Red Lobster or Popeye’s Fried Chicken commercial on television exhorts me to enjoy their ‘decadence.’ As you so eloquently point out, ‘decadent’ connotes ‘rotting’ — the antithesis of ice cream, and especially my favorite, chocolate ice cream.”

I had some fun with the birthers’ assaults on President Obama’s credibility, and came up with some wacky scenarios for the rubbing out of Osama Bin Laden.

One reader responded that the piece “is not only the funniest thing you ever wrote; it is the funniest thing I have ever read.”

Over the years, I wrote quite a few columns about my conversations with Patsy Boone, a maiden lady who lived with her widowed sister in the North Carolina hamlet of Whitsett. Patsy’s voice and accent echoed a time that lives in ancestral memory, and it captivated me from the start. Patsy died May 21, 2011, and I noted her passage. Several readers who knew her only through the column joined me in mourning her.

“What a beautifully written tribute to Patsy,” wrote one reader. “I could just hear ‘the voice,’ as you quoted her, although I didn’t know her or ever hear her voice.”

Wrote another: “She was courteous and candid … I relate to her and her Southern charm … I am not always as ‘Southern’ courteous as I think I should be, but I like candid. As my old grandpa used to say, ‘Shall we always be candid, but with a flare of Southern courteousness.’ That will usually leave us an escape route.”

When I wrote in defense of the jury’s decision in the Casey Anthony case and in criticism of the media’s efforts at trying the case on the screen, I expected a lot of dissent. Instead, I got a chorus of “amens.”

“Your column about Casey Anthony and the horrible media coverage was right on the mark,” wrote one reader. “Nancy Grace should change her name to Nancy Disgrace. … I, too, think Casey Anthony is guilty, but there was no physical evidence to support a conviction.”

“Americans have gone nuts to waste time listening to show-boaters such as Grace,” wrote another. “You always tell it like it is; for that we are grateful.”

My piece on codgers was a hit with people of my generation, and several picked up on my reference to “suicide knobs,” also known as “neckers knobs.” In the days before power steering, these knobs attached to the steering wheel made it easier to drive with one hand while holding your sweetie with the other.

“I was just writing to let you know that I have a suicide knob on my little John Deere yard mower,” wrote one old-timer. “They are still available at Sears. I just don’t think anyone will be riding beside me while driving it.”

Being a codger can save you money, another reader informed me:

“My wife and I were entering Mesa Verde National Park a few years ago, and I asked the volunteer Ranger (an old codger himself) at the entrance if I could buy a Golden Age Pass that gives senior citizens lifetime admission to all national parks for only $10. He looked at me and said, ‘If you can answer yes to three questions: Do you have $10? Are you an American citizen? Are you a codger?’ I said yes to all three and handed him $10. He never asked for my driver’s license to verify my age.”

The ultimate compliment came in response to my column on the death of Andy Rooney, whose comments provided the dessert at the end of CBS’ “60 Minutes”:

“Andy Rooney was a unique, but so are you.”

English usage experts will jump my case for this, but I’ve got to respond: Andy was uniquer.

Readers may write Gene Owens at 104 Belspring Lane, Anderson SC 29621 or email him at WadesDixieco@AOL.com.