A Tribute to Paddy, Cheerleader

As a new blogger, you often feel as if you’re just sending content into the ether, content no one will ever see or remark upon.

Why do I do it? you ask yourself. After all, you get no comments. You can see from your stats that only bots have viewed your posts. Why bother? you ask yourself. I should just give this up.

Until suddenly someone begins to post comments—and that someone isn’t your mom or English teacher. That someone is a stranger.

And she comes back—again and again. And her comments are wise and funny and generous and thought provoking, and they mean something to you not just because she’s a stranger, but because she’s GOOD. A great writer. Far more knowledgeable about the subject matter than you are. A frequent blog award winner.

And she still thinks YOU have something to say.

So you gain confidence. And you post more. Until you get the hang of it, get into the routine. Of course, it’s inevitable that you’ll slip. For months you won’t post. But when you do, there she is, as if to remind you, I care. I really do. Keep writing. And she makes you believe that there are others out there, not as confident as she perhaps, who are reading too.

And as you participate in blogathons, you notice that she’s doing this for others—many others. That her comments accompany so many posts, and that they’re never generic comments. They’re always specific, always thoughtful. How you smile to see her name! And you know that you should do the same, help others keep going. But you never manage to set the bar as high as she does.

That’s who Paddy of Caftan Woman was to me. I just learned of her death, and like many people who’d never met her, I mourned. I’ll never get to read any new posts from her—her funny, insightful, interesting pieces that taught me so much about classic films and film history. I’ll never get to see her name in my comments again, or experience her sympathy for my struggles in trying to convince my classic-movie-intolerant siblings. And neither will all the others she supported.

So I want to say thank you belatedly to Paddy, and to the virtual supporters like her who help writers keep going when we want to give up, when we wonder what the point is, when we feel like no one cares.

Today I’d like to post some images from classic film that remind me of Paddy and what she meant to me—and to so many others.

This is how I imagine Paddy wrangling me to keep writing:

Here’s the joy I felt when I saw her name in my comments:

And most of all, I think of this character when I envision Paddy: the wise one who knows how to be silly, to balance warmth and honesty with wit, to say just what’s needed, and to do what will always make you smile.

I miss you, Paddy.