I'm losing my anonymity. I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that the Canadian edition of

Reader's Digest has a feature article about me in its April issue. All of a sudden, having seven million English Canadians and another two million French Canadians reading about me seems to have raised my visibility around here.

I've been writing this column for close to twelve years. I have four books on bookstore shelves, and I do a lot of radio and TV appearances, but I have managed to stay pretty anonymous around home.

I've often said that in our little town I am Mr. Diane Kirkland. Diane is a very successful stock broker, and she is involved in service clubs and foundations in our community. I've always just been that guy she is married to; the one nobody is really all that sure about.

"Well, we know he's married to Diane but we have no idea what he does," seems to be the general summation of my impact on the local community.

That's partially because, in those dozen years of writing the column, it has never appeared in the local media. It's always run in newspapers hundreds of miles from home. Most of the time, that's made my family pretty happy. My sons knew that, despite growing up through their teen years as characters in the column, their friends, and, more importantly, girlfriends' mothers were not going to read about them or their exploits. Diane could be almost certain that her clients would not be reading about my take on marriage and the person I am married to.

Even so, Brad says he will probably end up talking to a therapist about growing up knowing everything he did could be the topic of one of his father's columns. Mike just keeps reminding me that he will be the one who picks the seniors' home I'll end up living in someday.

Even elsewhere in Canada, I have stayed more or less anonymous. The column has more readers in American newspapers than in my own country. I am often recognized in the streets in the United States, and sometimes it's even by people who don't think I am Michael Moore. Giving up wearing baseball caps helped a lot with that.

But that is all changing. There is a great picture of Tara, my Labrador retriever assistance dog and me accompanying the Reader's Digest article. The photo shoot took place in a local coffee shop. Tara and I are at a table, both sitting in chairs, and she has her nose well into her coffee cup. The photographer took approximately 200 pictures that day. I could see the outline of the flash whenever I closed my eyes for the next two days. I thought I might have to get Tara a seeingeye Chihuahua.

Ever since the magazine hit the stands, I've been receiving dozens emails each day from people who read the article. Because it was partially focused on how I came to be disabled, many of them have been offering me suggestions for cures.

I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure that the only thing crystals hung over my desk, magnets sewn into my bedding, and switching to an extreme vegan diet will do for me is decorate my office, make my bed uncomfortable, and increase my flatulence production. And believe me, no one wants that.

Obviously, there are many people in the little town I live in who read Reader's Digest. I've been noticing people staring at me a bit more than usual in stores and restaurants. A few have actually waved or pointed at me.

Out of habit, I still check my fly whenever someone points at me. You just never know.

This morning, I knew that the article had really lifted the veil of anonymity here at home. Tara and I were out for a walk, when I saw a woman staring. After a moment, she approached us.

"Isn't that the dog that's in Reader's Digest this month?" she asked.

Wow. My stature has sure been lifted. No longer am I simply Mr. Diane Kirkland around here. Now, I'm the human companion of Tara, the Reader's Digest dog.

I've made it to the big time.

2006, Gordon Kirkland