I was saddened last week—well, for many reasons, but that’s another story—when I referenced “Dear Abby” in one of my classes and drew blank stares.
I cannot tell how much life experience, how many sticky situations and what possible foibles I have avoided, because of what I’ve learned from reading those daily columns.
It started at the breakfast table at Angus Street. (That in itself is a cultural rarity) and, with the exception of my five years in Europe, continued to September of this year when we chose to cancel the local paper and get the NY Times instead.
Ann Landers and “Dear Abby” were twins. In Los Angeles, in the 50’s, there were two newspapers. One had Anne and one had Abby. We had Abby.
What I loved about “Dear Abby “ was the total commitment to common sense. If I could spread a salve over this present generation and my own, it would be a balm made of COMMOM SENSE.
My all time favorite column was one from a woman who was writing “back” about a previous one. The subject was a woman complaining about her snoring husband. The writer wrote: “I just wish I still had my snoring husband. He died this year.”
Every time I wake in the night to a snore, I think of that.
