Fifteen minutes of fame
by Jennifer Cohron
Mar 19, 2011 | 1889 views | 0 0 comments | 21 21 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Jennifer Cohron
Jennifer Cohron
I was surprised to learn recently that a local judge reads my columns. I wouldn’t have believed it if His Honor had not told me so.

More and more frequently these days, people are recognizing me as “the girl who writes those articles on Sundays.”

My boys are minor celebrities, too.

Zac says a few customers have asked him if he is “the Zac,” as if his ego isn’t healthy enough already.

I didn’t realize so many people know where he works. Apparently I have done more free advertising for Piggly Wiggly than I thought.

Oops, I did it again.

Several weeks ago, a lady said, “Hi, Wyatt,” when she passed us in the grocery store. Zac and I didn’t know her, so we assumed she had read about the baby in the paper.

Although my name and face appear in this space each week, Wyatt is really the star of the show. Almost every person who says something nice about my columns mentions him specifically.

Stories about me doing something stupid, like getting stuck in the mud in Berry, also seem to be popular.

The way I look at it, crazy stuff is going to happen to me regardless. Since everyone needs a good laugh now and then, I hope to keep writing those columns as long as you keep reading them.

Lately, though, I have been thinking about whether I should stop writing columns.

There is a price to pay for being a public figure, even an insignificant local one. A situation that occurred recently made me worry about how far people will go when they have a problem with something I write elsewhere in the paper.

I choose not to share the details except to say that I was not prepared for such an unacceptable invasion of my privacy.

I have been paranoid ever since it happened. My main concern, obviously, is my family.

A lot of people I have never met have known my son’s name since before he was born. Only recently did I begin to realize how dangerous that could be.

I started writing these Lifestyles columns two years ago so that readers would know who to call when they had a good idea for a feature story.

I could have protected myself by creating a fake version of Jennifer Cohron to hide behind every Sunday.

However, writing is a waste of time unless it’s real.

If you want a reporter’s thoughts on important issues, I’m going to have to direct you to any 24-hour news network.

However, if you love your spouse and pray for your kids, if you sometimes wonder if your job even matters but can’t quit because you have bills to pay, if you laugh and cry and worry and dream, then you can probably relate to some of my columns.

I don’t want to tell you how to vote, but I do want you to know that you’re not the only one who does dumb things like losing your wallet and getting stuck in the mud.

I’ve been going through my collection of columns recently for a project I’m making for Wyatt’s first birthday.

Reading them has brought back a lot of good memories — marrying my first love, caring for Bert the turtle, taking four pregnancy tests before finally accepting that little plus sign, learning on Zac’s 25th birthday that we were having a son, giving birth to Wyatt, finding my groove as a new mother and as my own person.

The past two years have been a wild ride. Some of you have shared most of this journey with me.

I want you to know that I sincerely appreciate every time that you include reading my columns in your Sunday routine.

I realize that you probably haven’t liked some of them, and that’s okay.

I just need you to understand that I can’t be anything other than I am. I don’t want to lie to make myself more likable.

If you’ve been reading these columns for a while, then you must know that what you see is what you get with me and you have decided that you’re OK with that.

So from the deepest part of my heart, thank you.