Three days a week, my column occupies this space (or one nearby) and I get to share tales that, in one way or another, relate to the outdoors.

The goal – one that’s shared by journalists everywhere – is really quite simple.

We want the reader to think … to absorb … and to feel something.

Something? Anything … so long as the reader doesn’t sample part of the column and give up, realizing that they’ve got a bird cage to paper, or some fish to wrap, or a fire to tinder.

At times – too many times, according to some – my columns deal humorously with issues that are very personal (to me) … and hopefully entertaining (to you).

If you’ve read carefully over the past several years, and have taken notes, you could tell me how tall I am … how much I weigh … what color hot dogs are clearly the best … which rivers I fish the most … and how many turkey permits I’ve been granted in the state-run gobbler lottery system.

Not that I’d expect that, mind you … not even from my best friends. In fact, if you did instantly know all that information … well, it might be a bit unsettling.

But all that information is out there … somewhere.

Every so often, a few of the thousands of words … culled from hundreds of columns … generated for a nearly timeless yet utterly disposable medium … come back to roost in the most amazing, thoughtful ways.

Like they did when Jean Devereux of Penobscot e-mailed me a few days after I took part in the Polar Bear Dip sponsored by Washington County Community College’s Student Senate.

Her poignant comments reaffirmed a few things for me. First and foremost: Family matters.

Here, with Devereux’s permission, are parts of that e-mail.

“I am putting a small check in the mail to you for the Polar Bear Dip.

“I had intended to send the check to you today whether you made the dip or not. Actually, I was very much hoping that you would NOT make the dip.

“After having a battle with cancer for the past 16 months or so, I am well aware of the importance of money raised for many projects,” wrote Devereux, commenting on her pledge to the Ronald McDonald House.

“John, I am a (step) great-grandmother. I married my husband after his wife died, and his children were all about grown. Two of the ‘kids’ were still at home, two married with children. They have meant MY life to me over the past nearly 40 years, and have been wonderful through the years.

“My husband was not much of a sports person, nor am I. But, when he was alive we always read Tom Hennessey’s column.

“My dad wasn’t a hunter, either, but he sure did love to go fishing, and I loved to go with him. I have some wonderful memories.

“Now, I read your columns and enjoy them very much. Your writing is like that of one of my grandchildren, sending a letter to the rest of the ‘clan,’ and to me.

“Which, of course, is why I didn’t want you to do that silly swim.”

Devereux has been paying attention, you see. She knows I’m engaged to a wonderful woman. She knows about Sarah and Molly, my fiancee’s daughters. And Devereux said (politely, gently) that my midwinter “swim” wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had.

“You are about to take on two dear little girls and their Mom, who obviously love you very much. As the girls’ [step] Dad, you are going to have to keep yourself in good health, because they are going to need you for a long time (it is a myth that it is ‘only until age 18’).

“And, like me fishing with my Dad, those little girls have got a lot of years with you to build up memories with more fishing trips. Yes, they may catch bigger, better fish than you, but I read your pride in that, and so will they.

“I am glad you are OK. The next time you need to raise some money, though, PLEASE don’t take a chance on your health. Your [fiancee and future stepdaughters] will need you. So do the rest of us.”

You don’t have to write for a living to realize that e-mails like that are rare gems.

Because I’m allowed to do this job, I get to meet all kinds of interesting people with stories to tell. Many times (since I’m the one asking the questions), I head home knowing these sources far better than they’ll ever know me. That’s the nature of the industry.

And the readers? Well, unless they get very angry or exceedingly frustrated, or unless you spell their grandson’s dog’s name wrong, you’re not apt to hear from them nearly as often as you’d think.

The kind of fuel that one e-mail provides can keep a writer’s inner fire burning in the coldest of times, and can make the whole journey much more special.

And it can convince you that (in some cases, at least) your work wasn’t relegated to the birdcage … or the wood stove … before its time.

Thank you, Mrs. Devereux. You made my day.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.