Tends to forbid me from singing my own praises. It’s not natural for me to tout reviews for my work.
Back in Nebraska (the Nebraska of both my youth and my imagination), understated acceptance of praise was an art form in itself, because, hell, everybody who worked the fields, everybody who had to get up before daylight to feed the animals before going to school, everybody knew the work was hard. So when someone complimented your efforts, there had to be a touch of humility in your reply, along with a very wry acknowledgement that it was just your luck to be noticed.
“Good job getting that calf out of the well by yourself.”
“That wasn’t anything, she didn’t weigh …